If you desire healing, let yourself fall ill
by Dianaprince89
Summary: Touching Casey was like shocking yourself on a door handle. Touching Maura, even a platonic brush of her fingers, was like grabbing a live electrical wire with both hands. Slightly AU- Jane's married to Casey when she meets Maura.
1. What you seek is seeking you

_Shit._

Cursing internally, Jane closed her eyes against the rush of emotions that flooded her.

Maura had just arrived at the Dirty Robber and _jesus,_ the woman was so gorgeous it hurt. The demure M.E. scanned the crowded bar until her eyes alighted on Jane and Frost and a wide grin broke out on her face. She waved, and Frost returned the gesture as Maura moved towards them.

Jane clenched her beer bottle tightly, draining the two-thirds full beverage in one sip. When Maura reached the table, sliding in next to Frost, Jane stood abruptly.

"I'm getting another," she said. "You want anything?"

"A glass of wine would be lovely," Maura smiled. "I'll come with you."

"No," Jane retorted, just a little too harshly. "I've got it. Frost?"

"Another," he indicated his nearly-empty beer. "Thanks."

Jane wove her way angrily to the bar with quick steps.

As she waited for the bartender, she spun her wedding ring nervously. She knew Casey was waiting at home for her, that she should have this next round and graciously excuse herself.

She also knew that wouldn't happen.

Her two-year marriage to Casey was wonderful. He was loving and caring and passionate and they meshed well. She'd thought he was _the one._

Then six months ago she'd met Dr. Maura Isles and her world had been…

Everything changed.

The quirky, Google-mouthed, socially awkward woman had thrown Jane into a tailspin.

They developed an instant rapport, an immediate connection. The ebb and flow of their relationship was as natural as the coming and going of the tide.

In another lifetime, it would have been perfect.

As it was, it was destroying Jane.

Tearing her apart, brick by brick.

Their friendship was everything Jane had imagined two people could have. It put the connection she had with others to shame.

Maura was funny and intelligent and gorgeous and Jane was helpless to stop herself.

Maura felt inevitable.

And you can't stop the inevitable.

You could fight it- and oh, how Jane was trying to fight it, but she knew it was futile. She was merely spinning her wheels.

Even now, half a year into their friendship, she knew she'd lost.

Jane was in love with Maura.

Glancing over at their booth, Jane caught Maura watching her. The doctor's face split into a genuine smile and Jane forced a smile in return, spinning back to the bar.

"Shot," she grated to the familiar bartender. "I need a shot- Jameson, please."

The bartender proffered the shot and Jane downed it swiftly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if it would soothe the burn. She grabbed the beers and Maura's wine and returned to the table.

Handing off the drinks, she slid into the booth across from Maura. As soon as she was settled, she felt Maura's leg brush hers. Startled, Jane pulled away abruptly, her knee banging the table.

"Sorry," she mumbled in response to the curious looks directed her way.

Frost and Maura resumed their conversation and Jane listened half-heartedly.

Maura seemed oblivious to Jane's growing affection, and Jane wondered how long she'd be able to hide her feelings. She wondered, with more concern, how long she'd be able to hide them from Casey.

Jane found herself staring at Maura's lips as the woman spoke and she jumped slightly when Frost kicked her shin under the table. She glanced at him curiously, cursing again when she saw the look on his face.

He knew.

_Fuck._

Apparently hiding it was going to be more problematic than she'd thought.

Frost's eyes narrowed at her and he sighed.

"Maura," he interrupted the doctor's chatter. "Would you excuse us for just a minute?"

"Of course," Maura allowed, a small wrinkle in her brow. "Is everything alright?"

Jane wanted to smooth that wrinkle with her lips and fingers. She wanted to caress every inch of her skin, to map the planes and contours of her body in the dim light of the M.E.'s expensive bedroom.

_Double fuck._

"Jane," Frost gritted his teeth, standing. "Would you join me for a moment?"

Jane stood as well.

"We'll be right back," she offered, following Frost as he charged towards the door of the bar.

Outside, her whirled on her, an accusatory finger dangerously close to her nose.

"You gotta cut that shit out," he barked. "Now."

"What?" Jane deflected, trying to be angry.

"You know what," he scoffed humorlessly. "Stop looking at the Doc like you're picturing her naked."

Jane swallowed harshly, closing her eyes tightly and rubbing them angrily.

"I can't," she gritted out. "I just don't… I can't."

"Well figure it out," Frost softened. "Because you're asking for a heap of trouble, Jane. Go home."

"I don't want to," Jane rasped, meeting Frosts eyes.

There was compassion in his eyes, but also a sharp edge of judgment that Jane shrank away from.

"Go home," he repeated. "See your husband."

They stood there for a long minute, Jane wondering what clearer signal the universe could send her to back off.

"You always gonna be around to save me?" she joked half-heartedly.

"Yes," Frost replied. "But my services will cost you."

"Sorkin paperwork?" Jane groaned. "Come on!"

"Don't push it," Frost laughed. "I still haven't finished the Bartlett file either."

"Fine," Jane relented with a small smile. "God forbid you actually do your job."

"I'm too busy saving your ass," Frost nudged her gently. "Go home Jane. I'll see you Monday."

"Thanks," Jane nodded. "I'll see ya."

She turned, the warring emotions within her rendering her unable to face Casey just yet. She needed to walk, to clear her head, to step back slightly from the remembrance of Maura's subtle perfume, delicate laughter, and the fleeting brush of their calves under the table.

Jane walked the two miles home in no particular rush.

She still felt a spark when she touched Casey. Was still attracted to him. Still… loved him.

But touching Casey was like shocking yourself on a door handle. Touching Maura, even a platonic brush of her fingers, was like grabbing a live electrical wire with both hands.

It just didn't compare.

To anything.

Six months, four days, and nineteen hours ago, Jane wouldn't have believed love or attraction or emotion like this existed.

She would have scoffed, laughed, rolled her eyes.

She would have chuckled at such romantic delusions and gone on about her day.

Now… she aches.

She loves Casey, made a commitment to him.

Jane Rizzoli-Jones did not break her promises.

And yet, she also couldn't deny that the mysterious way she felt about Maura was bigger than she could control.

Jane had taken weeks, months, to warm up to Casey. To fall in love with him. To agree to marry him.

In only a matter of hours, she was hopelessly tangled up in Maura Isles.

Already, six months in to their friendship, she felt inextricably bound to the other woman.

Part of what worried her so much was that, _sometimes_, she thought Maura might feel it too.

Sometimes, Maura would catch her eye and in her gaze would be a deeper sentiment than proper, a more volatile emotion than was friendly.

Sometimes, Maura would let her touch linger for a beat too long, would let her hand graze a bit too sensually.

Sometimes, Maura would say something innocuously draped with intimacy, would let her tone or her words insinuate a deeper connection than colleagues should have.

When Jane arrived outside the familiar brownstone, she stopped to take a deep breath. Steeling herself, she entered.

Jo barked a greeting, and Jane reached down to pat the dog affectionately.

"I'm home," she called out cheerfully.

"In here," Casey called back.

Jane followed the voice to the den. Casey was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, Jane's favorite piece of furniture in the house, reading a novel. He had his reading glasses on, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, his worn jeans revealing his bare feet.

"Hey Baby," he greeted warmly, putting the book aside.

"Hey," Jane returned, leaning down to kiss him chastely. Casey put a hand against the back of her neck and held her, deepening the kiss. Jane allowed it, and while she felt that warm, familiar pleasure that she always had, it was nothing compared to the way just being near Maura made her feel.

"You ok?" Casey asked when he pulled back. He coaxed Jane into his lap and she came willingly, needing the strength and comfort of his hold around her.

Jane sighed, surrendering to the feel of his arms encircling her.

"Long day," she half-lied.

"Wanna talk about it?" Casey offered.

Jane shook her head, yawning, and burrowed further against his chest.

"Ok," Casey chuckled. He picked up his book and resumed reading. Jane let the warmth of his body steal around her, lulling her into a half-sleep state where everything seemed less clear.

She loved Casey.

It had taken a lot of work on her part to finally allow someone to care for her, to trust and love him the way she believed everyone deserved.

And Casey had done everything to earn that trust, to maintain that bond. He was ideal for Jane, knowing just when to push and just when to back off. He knew she had scars, both visible and hidden, and was willing to let sleeping dogs lie.

Cradled in his arms, Jane felt sheltered from the world. Casey had so far given her a life of happiness, love, warmth, passion… He was everything she had always expected a husband to be but never thought existed.

So why, when it seemed like true, lasting happiness was in the cards for her, did she have to fall in love with someone else?


	2. I started looking for you, not knowing

It was so… unfair.

There was no other way to describe it.

Jane had worked hard, really hard, to make a life for herself. She was a good cop, a good friend, a good partner, and she was trying her hardest to be a good wife.

Nothing was easy for her, and she didn't expect it to be.

But this was… this was too much even for her.

This was a burden she knew she couldn't bear.

The staggering weight of her attraction to Maura would cripple her. This love would bring her to her knees.

_Love._

Fuck.

She couldn't even deny it in her own thoughts.

Jane had never had a friend like Maura. Despite her awkwardness, her relative social naiveté, her off-beat sense of humor, Maura seemed to instinctively know what Jane wanted, needed.

The easy banter, the casual conversation, the subtle give and take of their relationship- Jane was addicted to it.

They ate lunch together, chatted at crime scenes, had drinks at the Robber.

Maura taught Jane things, all kinds of facts about art and science and music and literature, and not once did she seem condescending or judgmental. Jane reciprocated, educating Maura about sports and cars and beer.

She taught Maura how to hold a gun, how to throw a right hook, and how to lie. Maura still wasn't very good at the last one, but Jane knew it wouldn't take long. You couldn't hunt monsters for a living without it leaking out and staining you.

Jane knew she was hopelessly, helplessly in love with Maura. That people were starting to notice, to wonder.

That their relationship was raising eyebrows.

Sometimes, the temptation to act on her feelings was nearly overwhelming.

It was a heady, desperate feeling.

Maura would flounce into the bullpen and Jane's eyes were drawn to her immediately. They would crouch at a crime scene and Jane would reach over to touch her. The M.E. would show her something on a victim's body and her scent would reach Jane despite the seeming impossibility of it. It was beyond her control.

But it was more than that. It was far more than physical.

Jane wanted to possess Maura, to own her, to be as wrapped up in Maura as the other woman unknowingly was wrapped up in her.

When Jane was eight, her father had to cut down her favorite tree. The grand old oak was Jane's favorite tree in the world. She climbed in it, hung a swing from it, hid in it. It provided shelter and shade, fodder for her imagination. She loved it- it was a part of her.

It had been growing sick, dying, for years.

They had tried a number of things to keep it alive, Jane more fervently than anyone else. But their budget was tight, and hiring a tree doctor was something frivolous that her parents wouldn't even consider.

So they cut the tree down to a stump that summer, dug around it and pulled it out with a truck hitch.

Jane refused to help.

Turned out the delicate, flowery poplar nearby had been choking it.

She felt just like that- like Mara was choking her roots.

No on else could see it, so no one could help her. But she could feel it. She knew what was happening. Maura was uprooting her, destroying her foundation, fundamentally altering the basis of her very existence, just below the surface.

Jane thought Maura might feel it too, sometimes. The quirky doctor was hard to read, but she seemed to spend much of her time outside her comfort zone, simply to appease Jane.

Maura didn't guess. But for Jane, she speculated.

Maura didn't watch sports. But for Jane she was an avid Red Sox fan.

Maura didn't have siblings. But for Jane, she took on a family.

Maura didn't eat junk. But for Jane she gorged on grilled cheese.

Maura didn't drink beer. But for Jane, she sipped Harpoon.

Even when Maura didn't understand what Jane was saying, she seemed to be able to read her on an emotional level. The scope of their connection was something ethereal, some soul-deep tie that bound their hearts as one.

Jane knew it would only end in heartbreak. She could never decide whose heart, however.

Casey and Maura were innocent in it all. She wanted it to be her own heart, if something had to break.

That wouldn't be hard.

Loving Maura from a distance, trying to love Casey and be a good wife… it would break Jane's heart.

And not a clean break, either.

One of those shattering, splintering breaks where even if you find all the pieces and try to glue them back together the cracks show and the alignment is off and it's never as good as it was before it broke.

She saw it coming, like the darkening sky of an ominous storm. To take shelter would have required turning her back on Maura, and she wasn't strong enough for that.

So she tried to brace herself. Tried to dig in, hoping it would help her weather whatever was coming.

And oh, how it was brewing.

Then, the downpour began.

Maura passed out during an autopsy.

Jane was not the first to find her. An intern, one whose name Jane couldn't currently remember, discovered Maura crumpled on the floor.

Jane was out at a scene when it happened.

Frankie called and his voice was calm, but clipped with worry.

"We don't know anything," he opened, and Jane's entire body tightened. "But Doc Isles just left here by ambulance."

A million questions rushed to Jane's mind and only Frost calling her voice brought Jane back to the crime scene she was walking away from. One hand on the car door, she met Frost's eyes across the ten feet between them.

"Maura's hurt," Jane said, barely loud enough for him to hear over the commotion at the scene.

Worry flashed through his eyes on the tail of an unsettling comprehension. "Go," he said. "I got this."

Jane didn't need any further encouragement.

Everything on the way to the hospital seemed slower than molasses. Every light was red. Every speed limit was too low. She briefly considered using her lights but it was Maura's voice in her head that cautioned her against breaking the rules.

When she parked haphazardly outside the hospital, a text from Frankie telling her where to go, her hands were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

Jane felt her entire body fill with dread. Three days ago Maura got cut by a suspect who stuck around after killing his victim. At the time, she said it was nothing. She got a few stiches on her upper arm and went back to work.

Now, Jane's mind filled with all the horrible things that could be wrong. Diseases, infections, mistakes. Maura could die from a rusty scissor blade wielded by a man unworthy to even look at her.

She saw Maura this morning. They laughed over cups of coffee. Maura seemed fine. _Fine._ Jane should have known. Her gut churned- something was wrong with her best friend and she didn't know. This was her fault somehow. It must be.

She didn't protect Maura. Never mind the stitches Jane's sporting on her thigh from tackling the bastard after he cut Maura. The bruises that litter Jane's body from the fight that ensued before Frost could jump in. The scrapes across her knuckles from where she beat the suspect senseless.

Jane let Maura get hurt.

After seeing Maura home at the end of the workday, Jane hid out. Until this morning, she had avoided Maura. She couldn't stand the guilt of what had happened, couldn't stop blaming herself. Maura said it was ok, but it _wasn't_.

Maura's protection was Jane's job. She didn't do her job, and Maura got cut.

That's not ok.

Like a zombie, Jane made her way towards Maura. The urge to run towards her was nearly overwhelming. Nurses gave her directions, people moved out of her way, the elevator didn't come immediately so she took the stairs.

If Maura died, Jane vowed to punish the man responsible in ways the justice system could never fathom.

Finally, what felt like an eternity after Frankie called, she was outside the door of Maura's room. Jane had learnt, through years of experience, that bracing yourself outside the door never helped. She burst inside without a moments pause.

Maura was sitting up in bed, a magazine in her hands.

Jane froze.

She wasn't dead.

"No," Maura looked at Jane grimly, confusion on her face. "I'm not dead."

Jane realized she said the words out loud. She also realized she was panting, hard.

"Did you think I was?" Maura asked, either oblivious to Jane's condition or unconcerned. "If I was dead they wouldn't have me in a hospital room. I would be in the morgue awaiting autopsy…"

"Maura," Jane cut her off. "Stop."

The image of Maura cold and lifeless on an autopsy table made Jane shiver and her lunch threaten to come back up.

"Frankie called me," Jane offered by way of explanation for her presence. "He said there was an ambulance. Why didn't you call me, text me, _something_?"

Maura blushed, and Jane felt something crack inside her at how endearing and gorgeous the other woman was.

"I'm sorry I worried you," she apologized. "My phone is in my office. I… I fainted. The antibiotics I'm taking didn't react well with my empty stomach and caused a drop in my blood pressure that resulted in…"

Jane's eyes were focused intently on Maura's lips as the woman spoke. Maura's brow furrowed.

"Jane?" she queried.

"Sorry," Jane cleared her throat, realized she was still standing in the doorway. She walked further into the room and stood next to Maura's bed. It forced Maura to look up at her and Jane smiled, still trying desperately to calm her racing heart.

"Are you alright?" Maura asked, concern lacing her voice.

"Yeah Maura," Jane soothed, squeezing Maura's hand. "I'm fine. How are you?"

Maura squeezed back and Jane's smile got soft and warm.

"I'm alright," she hedged. "Although a bit embarrassed. I really should have known better. I just got distracted and didn't realize how much time had elapsed since I'd eaten."

"Distracted?" Jane quirked an eyebrow. "By what?"

Maura flushed a deep crimson that spread down onto her chest. Jane tried not to follow the spreading blush by focusing instead on Maura's face. Maura had averted her eyes and pulled her hand away from Jane's.

Jane was beyond intrigued. "By what?" she pressed gleefully. "What could possibly have gotten _you_ so distracted that you ignored medical advice?"

Maura looked up, her eyes dark and passionate, and Jane's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed and though she wanted to flinch, to look away, she found herself unable. It didn't seem funny anymore.

Alarm bells went off in the back of Jane's mind but it was too late now.

"I was thinking about you," Maura breathed shyly.

"I uh," Jane stammered. "Uh, what, um, what about me?"

"How you came to my rescue the other day," Maura answered.

Jane looked away then, the guilt surfacing immediately to swallow her whole.

"Why does that upset you?" Maura asked instantly.

"I let you get hurt," Jane retorted, as if her failure were obvious and glaring.

"You saved me," Maura countered. "You're like my white knight."

"Right," Jane scoffed. "I'm pretty sure the white knight is supposed to keep you from getting hurt, not watch it happen."

"You couldn't have known he was going to do that," Maura soothed, grabbing Jane's hand. She pulled and Jane sat down on the edge of Maura's bed. "And you did a wonderful job of rescuing me."

"I'm really sorry-" Jane began, and Maura put a finger over Jane's lips.

"Would you please stop apologizing?" she urged. "If I promise that it's not your fault and that I don't blame you, will you promise never to mention me fainting again?"

"Hell no," Jane laughed. "This is just way to good. You, Ms. Anal-retentive herself, fainted because you forgot to eat while day-dreaming about me."

Jane knew she was treading into dangerous territory, that acknowledging the mutual attraction sparking between her and Maura was tantamount to rushing into a minefield, but she couldn't seem to care at the moment.

Maura was being playful and soft and it was a heady, enticing combination that left Jane off-balance, made her feel bolder.

That boldness was dangerous. It echoed around her like loose gravel on the side of a cliff. She could sense the thin line she was treading, but she couldn't back away from the edge.


	3. Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

Casey went out of town for three days and Maura invited Jane to spend Saturday with her. Jane knew it was probably a bad idea, but after a day and a half she missed Casey's calming presence, his comforting role in her life.

She agreed to spend the day with Maura without asking what they would be doing.

Now, annoyed at being roped into such a boring afternoon, Jane groaned and not-so-subtly shifted in her seat.

Maura, for her part, was rambling on endlessly in her excitement at the prospect of the medical conference they were attending.

She was finally, after all these years, going to meet Dr. Wayne Gibson, the premier Microcraniotomy neurosurgeon out of UCLA. He was speaking at a conference in Boston, and Maura had managed to secure two tickets to hear him. The event was followed by a meet-and-greet.

Jane sighed in the driver's seat and Maura frowned, her brow furrowing.

"I'm so glad you're coming with me," Maura rested her hand on Jane's forearm.

Jane glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she maneuvered them into the parking lot.

"Yeah," Jane said. "No problem." She pasted on a smile and they parked.

Maura kept up a steady stream of chatter throughout the registration process and until the lights were dimmed.

The lecture was dry and boring, full of incomprehensible medical terms that nearly put Jane to sleep. Jane spent most of the lecture glancing surreptitiously at Maura out of the corner of her eyes.

When the house lights rose, Maura smiled at her and Jane felt the familiar butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"What did you think?" Maura asked.

"It was uh," Jane swallowed. "Informative."

"I thought it was wonderful!" Maura responded. "Just excellent. He's such an intelligent man, and the breakthroughs he has made in the field of neurosurgery, and more generally, medicine as a whole are extraordinary."

Jane's bemused smile stayed plastered in place as they circulated, chatting with former colleagues of Maura's and various acquaintances. She stayed at Maura's elbow for a while before finally excusing herself to find a drink.

Jane downed half a vodka tonic in a single sip and then made her way back through the crowd towards where she'd last seen Maura. She bumped into a man and realized it was Dr. Gibson.

To her utter surprise, Dr. Gibson engaged her in conversation. The man was arrogant, pompous, annoying as hell. He was practically unbearable and he couldn't seem to get a whole sentence out without insulting Jane. A few of his cohorts stood nearby, chuckling and agreeing and Jane bit back a comment about how far up his ass they were.

Jane saw Maura approaching them so she swallowed her disdain.

"Well you wouldn't understand," Dr. Gibson sneered. "It's very complicated. I'm sure shooting people is difficult enough for you without worrying about things like medicine and science."

"Right," Jane snorted, barely restraining herself. Anger coiled through her, and she felt ready to snap at any moment. Yet, for Maura's sake, she held back, biting her tongue.

"Not everyone can be quite so intelligent," Dr. Gibson laughed, nudging another man in a lab coat next to him. "Otherwise we'd have no one to cook and clean for us!"

"Excuse me gentlemen," Maura stepped forwards. Her voice was tight, cool, practically spitting the words as she moved next to Jane. "But Detective Rizzoli has more intelligence in her pinky finger than you do combined, and more honor and dignity than you could ever even imagine. You only wish you could be like her because you will never come close as a professional, as a spouse, as a friend, or as a person. Now if you'll excuse us."

Maura turned on her heel and stormed away, making a beeline for the exit. Jane picked her jaw up off the floor and followed, only just catching up to Maura when she reached the hallway outside the stately ballroom, which was only slightly less crowded.

"Maura!" she called. "Slow down a minute."

Stopping, Maura leaned her back against the wall, her chest heaving.

"What the hell was that?" Jane demanded. "That guy was your hero!"

"No Jane," Maura's voice was sharp. "That man is a coward. I'm sorry I ever liked him. Why did you let him say those awful things about you?"

"He wasn't gonna listen to me," Jane shrugged. "You gotta pick your battles."

"Well I'm sorry," Maura's voice softened, hurt. "I'm sorry you had to listen to even one second of that man."

Jane's shoulders slumped.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to him. He just bumped into me and I tried to tell him how much we liked his presentation and…" She shrugged helplessly.

"Don't apologize," Maura insisted, her eyes blazing. "You did nothing wrong. You came to something that I wanted and you didn't complain and you're… you're wonderful Jane. I meant what I said, you're very intelligent."

"I'm no doctor," Jane brushed the compliment aside. "And of course I came. You're my best friend- that's what friends do."

Overwhelmed by the sad, lost look on Maura's face, Jane pulled her into a brief embrace.

"You know what else they do?" Jane dug up a smile, just for Maura. "They bitch over drinks. Let's get out of here, huh?"

Nodding, Maura allowed Jane to lead her out of the crowded building. The melancholy draped around Maura was suffocating.

Jane felt horrible.

She'd just ruined the event Maura had been looking forward to, and worse she had taken away one of Maura's life-long idols.

The car ride was silent. At the bar, Jane ordered while Maura secured a booth. Neither made eye contact, silently blaming themselves for the afternoon's events.

When the waitress deposited Jane's beer and Maura's favorite wine, Maura nearly burst into tears.

Jane hadn't even asked what she wanted, knowing that the wine was what she needed to help wash away some of the sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Jane broke her train of thought. "I really screwed the pooch on this one."

Maura opened her mouth to protest but Jane continued.

"This meant so much to you and I went and screwed it up," she went on. "I'm really sorry. If there's something I can do to make it up to you, just say. We'll go to every medical conference east of the Mississippi and I will keep my big fat mouth shut."

Maura took a sip of wine but didn't respond.

Jane knew the pathetic sorrow on her face was overwhelming but she couldn't shake it.

"You did nothing wrong," Maura found her voice. Her words were steely, leaving no room for debate. "I am so sorry, Jane. If I had known Dr. Gibson was such a… a… a pompous ass, I never would have gone, and I certainly wouldn't have made you attend."

"Hey," Jane soothed. "You had no way of knowing. And you didn't make me attend- I wanted to go with you."

Maura's skeptical look made Jane smile.

"Ok, yeah," she allowed. "It might not have been my first choice. But getting to spend the day with you will always be my first choice. This was not your fault and you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, watching you get all righteously indignant was worth the two hours of listening to him drone on."

Jane's smile was warm and soft. When Maura laughed softly in response, Jane's smile blossomed into a full-face grin.

"Now," Jane nodded. "Let's enjoy the rest of this day. I think we should start by finding you a new hero."

"I think I'm good," Maura laughed.

"Really?" Jane teased. "Because I've got some suggestions. I always thought Stevens in Vice would look great in tights and a cape."

Maura laughed as they both pictured the elderly, portly detective in tights, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Jane," she scoffed, failing to hide her grin. "Be nice."

"Ok, ok," Jane laughed. "We'll work on it. Maybe you have some suggestions- recent Nobel Peace Prize winners? Fancy-pants research doctors? Caped crusaders of the comic book persuasion? I'm flexible here."

Maura grinned and took a sip of her wine. Her leg bumped Jane's under the table and neither woman pulled away.

"I am sorry," Maura said again. "You know that none of what he said was true, right?"

Jane flushed and averted her gaze.

"It's ok," she shrugged.

"No," Maura put a hand over Jane's where it rested on the table between them. Jane looked up. "I meant what I said," Maura continued. "He will never be close to you as a professional, as a spouse, as a friend, or as a person. You are better than him in every way imaginable, Jane."

Jane awkwardly pulled her hand back and Maura tried to cover the hurt in her eyes.

"Yeah," Jane hedged. "Thanks. Let's talk about something else."

Neither woman knew what else to talk about.

Maura swirled the last of her wine in its glass.

"I should be getting home," she suggested softly.

"Ok," Jane nodded, draining her beer in one gulp. "I'll drop you off."

"No that's ok," Maura refused, needing space from her friend to think. "I'll get a taxi."

Jane looked poised to protest but Maura stood abruptly. She reached for her wallet but Jane waved her off.

"Well," Maura shifted awkwardly. "Thank you for… everything."

Maura had a look of sorrowful confusion on her face. Jane wanted to lean down and kiss it away.

Instead, she fled.

In her car, Jane took deep, sawing breaths until she could think.

"This isn't me," she said aloud into the empty car. "This isn't me."

There was, of course, no response.

That week, Jane felt Maura's presence like a suffocating cloud. It surrounded her, seemed like Maura was everywhere.

Jane knew she was short-tempered with her friend, that Maura sensed her unease, but Jane cloaked her turmoil in the stress from their case and kept her head down.

That weekend, Jane doted on Casey. She made him an elaborate breakfast, watched his choices on TV, was even more affectionate than normal.

Part of her felt dirty, like she was lying or covering something up. Part of her felt like it was wrong.

But she still loved Casey, still valued and trusted and cherished him. She'd been neglecting him of late, in her struggle, and knew he had noticed.

He didn't push though, didn't pry- he knew she would come to him in her own time. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

And she did still love him.

She did.

For a moment, late Sunday afternoon, she thought about telling him. Talking to him about her feelings for Maura.

Something stopped her.

Instead, she kissed him. They made love and he still knew just how to make her feel cherished and feminine. He made her feel loved and protected and the pleasure was undeniable in his arms.

When she came, she thought of Maura.

Monday morning rolled around and Jane hadn't slept at all.

She ached, from head to toe. Her heart hurt, her eyes were gritty, her temples throbbed, her energy flagged.

When Maura saw her, her brow darkened and she ushered Jane into an armchair in her office.

"What's wrong?" Maura soothed, her hands immediately kneading gently at Jane's shoulders.

Jane arched under her touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied. "But I'm fine."

"You're very tense," Maura responded, working her fingers against a knot in Jane's back.

"Jeeze," Jane gritted.

"I'm sorry," Maura paused. "Does that hurt?"

"No," Jane forced out. "I mean yeah, for a second, but then- damn."

Maura chuckled.

"Yes," she continued moving her hands. "Muscle soreness is usually due to adhesions in muscles, tendons, and ligaments that block circulation and cause pain and inflammation. Massage works by physically breaking down these adhesions to relieve pain and restore normal movement."

"I don't care what you're doing," Jane moaned. "As long as you keep doing it."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Maura asked.

"Just a lot on my mind," Jane deflected.

"Care to share?"

"It's nothing."

The lapsed into silence and Maura continued her heavenly touch until Jane was completely pliant under her hands.

"All better," Maura whispered, pulling back. Her hands rested firmly on Jane's shoulders.

Jane took a deep breath. She knew Maura was hurt by her refusal to share what was keeping her up a night.

"Thanks Maura," Jane turned to meet her eyes. "I really appreciate it."

Maura nodded, flashed her a small smile, then moved away behind her desk.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Anytime."

"I might take you up on that," Jane teased.

Maura simply smiled again, that same polite, meaningless little smile Jane suspected had been drilled into her by her parents.

"So I'll see you later?" Jane suggested.

"Of course," Maura shuffled some papers on her desk.

Jane hesitated. She couldn't tell Maura the truth, but she hated the lie. With no other choice, she turned and left the office.

The tension that Maura had removed seemed to flood back instantly. The rest of the day was hellish, and when Jane got home she drank two shots of whiskey before climbing straight into bed.

She would do better tomorrow, she promised.

She needed some ground rules.

There had to be a line she wouldn't cross, something much more solid than _no kissing_.

She couldn't let Maura touch her. She couldn't touch Maura.

The physical distance seemed to be the only way she'd retain any sanity.

Even that was a shot in the dark, was doomed to fail.


	4. But you are the cure

No good deed goes unpunished, Jane thought with a wry grin.

She looked at Maura, sprawled out on top of her.

Maura had begged Jane to help her learn to charge home plate. Pestered and pleaded and looked at her with those wide, soulful eyes until she caved.

And now Maura was flushed and grinning below her. They were both covered in a sheen of perspiration. Maura's tight yoga capris did nothing to disguise the flexing of her toned, muscular legs. Her t-shirt was tight across her torso, flaunting her ample breasts.

Jane was splayed out beneath Maura, the ball in her glove, her body blocking the plate.

"I told you," Jane tried to focus on anything but the way Maura looked, panting and flushed as she rested across her. "You've got to focus. You're gonna have to use your brain. Work the angle, read the play."

Jane lightly tapped Maura's temple, smiling playfully.

"I'm trying," Maura sighed. "But you have a number of distinct advantages."

"Like what?" Jane frowned.

"First of all," Maura replied. "I don't want to hurt you. Secondly, you know me and can anticipate my actions in a way that an opponent would be unable to. And..."

She trailed off, and Jane would have sworn she could see a blush hinting at Maura's cheeks.

"And?" Jane prompted.

"And you're very distracting," Maura mumbled.

Jane cocked her head to the side, appraising Maura.

"You're distracted?" Jane asked clumsily. "Try to focus. I know you've got a lot going on in that big brain but try to block some of it out. And you won't hurt me- really try."

Maura looked like she was going to say something, to argue or correct Jane, but instead she nodded.

Without warning, she rolled them so that she was pinning Jane.

"At least my self-defense skills are sufficient," she teased victoriously, a blinding smile on her face.

Jane laughed, but it got stuck in her throat when Maura inadvertently rocked her hips against Jane.

Jane's eyes shot to Maura's lips and she practically threw Maura aside in her clamor to be out from underneath the other woman.

Normally, Jane would have extended a hand and helped pull Maura up from the ground. As it was, she couldn't trust herself to touch her, so she flexed her mitt, pulling the ball out with her free hand.

"Let's try it again," Jane encouraged, trying to clear the smokiness from her voice. "This time, try to get low a little earlier when you slide."

Nodding, Maura stood, brushing herself off.

Jane wanted to comment on the way she was wrinkling her clothes but the thought got lost when Maura caught her watching. The look in Maura's eyes was tumultuous, dark.

Wanting.

Needy.

Jane looked away, clenching her jaw.

Maura walked back out to third base and Jane blindly rolled the ball away towards the backstop.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," Maura called back.

"Go!" Jane yelled.

Both women began moving instantly. Jane went for the ball, trying to figure out where it had landed and grab it as quickly as possible. Maura for her part was darting towards home.

She misjudged her speed, and Jane knew before Maura did that a collision was imminent. She didn't begin sliding early enough and they were doomed to hit each other head on. Clutching tightly to the ball, Jane braced herself for Maura to run her down.

Maura's eyes went wide when she realized she had, again, miscalculated. Jane was hunched in front of the plate, ball in her mitt. Maura closed her eyes and slid, colliding harshly with Jane. Jane tried to wrap her body around Maura in order to protect her as much as possible.

There was a loud crack of them crashing and Jane's exclamation of, "Shit!" as the dust swirled around them.

She held perfectly still for a minute, taking stock of her body and mentally assessing for injury before she realized.

She had let the ball go.

Maura's charge had worked.

"Am I safe?" Maura asked hopefully, looking over at Jane.

"Yes," Jane sounded completely bewildered. "You are."

"Wonderful!" Maura hopped up. "That was quite exhilarating."

Jane stood, still a bit shocked that Maura had charged so hard.

Then she grinned.

"You got it!" she exclaimed, raising her hand for a high-five.

Maura instead threw her arms around Jane's neck, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you, Jane," she enthused. "This is wonderful. Are you hungry? There's a divine French bistro around the corner..."

"Maura," Jane cut her off, totally affronted. "You cannot go to a French bistro after playing baseball. It's sacrilege. We're getting hot dogs and beer and that's that."

Maura smiled, nodding. She gazed at Jane intently, her eyes dark.

"Do you think we'll ever talk about it?" Maura asked abruptly.

Jane met her eyes, her brow furrowed. She was about to ask for further clarification but the look on Maura's face said it all.

The desire in her gaze made Jane feel winded like she'd run a marathon.

"I can't," she shook her head.

"You can't," Maura countered. "Or you won't."

"I _can't_," Jane repeated emphatically.

"Why not?" Maura pressed softly, the neediness in her voice nearly overwhelming. She stepped closer to Jane's body without even realizing she was moving.

"I made a promise," Jane tightened her left hand reflexively.

"A promise you can't keep," Maura said quietly.

"Don't say that," Jane snapped, her eyes blazing. She was vibrating with anger, need, desperation, sorrow.

Maura stepped away, returning them to the distance they tenuously maintained.

"So this," Maura swallowed, looked away. "Is it for us?"

"Yes," Jane tried to sound sure, firm. She didn't think she quite succeeded.

Maura looked poised to say something and it filled Jane with a growing dread. The same dread that came when she knocked on a door and didn't know who was on the other side. The same dread that came when she charged down dim alleys, ran through unlit warehouses, hurtled into the great unknown.

"Is that enough?" Jane asked.

If Maura said no, if Maura pushed her away, Jane knew she would never recover.

"You're more than enough," Maura whispered. "That's why this is so hard. I've never met anyone like you, Jane. I don't think there is anyone like you. Getting to be a small part of your life would be enough- getting to be your friend is more than I could have imagined."

"You're my best friend," Jane interrupted.

"Your best friend is your husband," Maura replied perfunctorily, as if repeated editions of Good Housekeeping magazine were responsible for the sentiment.

"_You're_ my best friend," Jane corrected.

Maura's head bowed, her eyes slipping closed.

"Doesn't this count as talking about it?" she suggested.

Jane saw it for the deflection it was and allowed it. There really was nothing she could say to make this better.

She... she didn't know how. She said the only thing that came to mind.

"I love you."

Maura looked up, her lip quivering.

"I love you too," she replied.

Jane pulled Maura into a tight hug. They held each other for a long minute, Jane's hand softly stroking through Maura's hair. Maura's grip on Jane's body was nearly painful, her face buried in Jane's neck.

Finally, Maura pulled back.

"I think I'm going to pass on dinner," Maura whispered.

Jane nodded, an ache in her chest taking hold, growing roots that spread out to her fingers, toes.

"Ok."

"I'll see you Monday," Maura added.

Jane nodded again.

"Yeah."

"I'm-" Maura paused, closed her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Jane rasped.

A tear slipped down Maura's cheek and she turned, leaving Jane alone at home plate.

It was fitting, Jane supposed.

If she'd only been able to hold on just a little tighter, just a moment longer, Maura wouldn't have succeeded.

Maura's birthday was approaching and Jane knew it was the perfect way to channel some of her misguided emotions into a productive result.

With a month to plan, Jane began putting together the most elaborate surprise party she'd ever imagined. It wouldn't be nearly nice enough for Maura, but it was better than nothing.

Jane rented out the Robber, filled it with cops, detectives, doctors, support staff. The bar was filled to the brim with well-wishers. The pile of gifts by the door was enormous. The alcohol was plentiful, the food greasy, the cake enormous.

There were balloons and streamers and banners. The music was planned to a T.

Everything had to be perfect. And it was damn near close.

Miraculously, they didn't get called away.

At seven, Jane swung down to the morgue to invite Maura for a drink.

"I think I'll pass," Maura sighed. The weariness around her eyes was clear.

"Please?" Jane begged.

Maura's eyes were unreadable.

"Just one," Jane prodded.

"Alright," Maura nodded. She seemed… defeated.

When they walked into the Robber, a chorus of, _Surprise!_ rang out.

Tears filled Maura's eyes and the widest, most genuine smile Jane had ever seen broke out on Maura's face. She launched into Jane's arms, burying her face in Jane's neck.

Jane clutched her friend tightly, and time slowed. She wanted to pick Maura up and take her away. To bring her somewhere private, to celebrate her life in a way that far surpassed friendship.

But the world rushed in around them and Maura moved through the thronging crowd, got lost in the sea of party-goers.

Jane faded into the background, nursing a beer and resting casually against Casey's side in the booth. Her eyes stayed glued to Maura.

"This is a great party," Casey rumbled in Jane's ear, kissing her temple.

"Thanks," she sighed. "It's not the fanciest but it'll do."

"It's great," Casey corrected her. "You did a wonderful thing for Maura. I'm sure she doesn't care that it's not a white-linen thing. That type of thing doesn't seem to matter to her. It's just meaningful that you went to all this effort for her."

"No trouble," Jane lied. In truth, she'd been busting her ass all month long to prepare.

"You can tell her that," Casey laughed. "But I know better. We do share a bed, after all. Those late nights planning weren't lost on me."

Frost and Jane slid into the booth. They nodded their greetings.

"Sorry," Jane sighed, blushing slightly. "I thought I was being quiet."

"You were," Casey assured her. "I just don't sleep as well when you're not next to me."

"I appreciate the help," Jane added. "By the way. From all of you."

Korsak and Frost brushed her thanks aside. The people at Jane's table rotated, friends and colleagues stopping by to say hello and thank her for inviting them. Eventually, it was just Casey and Jane in the booth.

It should have felt fulfilling, to be tucked against her husband while her best friend circulated through the bar, celebrating her birthday.

But Jane wanted nothing more than to be at Maura's side. It was torturous, to watch her, to be so close and yet feel so damn far away.

The bar emptied as the evening wore on. People returned home to spouses, lovers, pets, silence.

Maura caught Jane's eye over the group surrounding her. Jane raised her beer in a silent toast, smiling.

Maura grinned, mouthed, _thank you_.

Jane's breath caught.

_Happy Birthday_, she whispered in return.

Finishing her beer, Jane yawned. The late nights were catching up to her.

"Tired, Baby?" Casey looked at her with a familiar concern. A few years ago, she would have shied away from it, seen it as an opportunity for weakness.

Now, she didn't have to lie or cover.

There was an overwhelming sense of relief that accompanied her marriage to Casey.

"Exhausted," she admitted. "But I'm going to stick around a while longer."

"You haven't even really gotten to speak to Maura," Casey suggested sympathetically. "I can wait with you."

Jane knew he was beyond exhausted as well.

"No it's ok," she assured him. "You go home, get some rest. I'll be home in a couple of hours."

"You're sure?" Casey pressed.

"I'm sure," Jane nodded. She stood when he did, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace.

Her eyes met Maura's.

The look shot through her like lightning.

Jane buried her face in Casey's neck, holding on for dear life.

He didn't rush the hug, let her dictate the extent of it. Pulling back, Jane kissed him passionately.

The touch of his lips made her feel warm, wanted. The hard planes of his body against hers ignited a spark inside her.

But something was missing.

It felt the same as it always had. The problem was that now she suspected, _knew,_ there was something more.

It paled in comparison.

She hated Maura for ruining it.

Casey excused himself, went home. No one thought it odd that Jane stayed without him. It was her best friend's birthday. She'd thrown the party, after all, and hadn't gotten to talk to Maura all evening.

There were plenty of legitimate reasons for her to stay behind.

But Jane knew the real reason.

It made her gut churn with nerves. Made her stomach clench and her palms sweat.

The little box under the table was nothing fancy, nothing ornate. But it would cast her out into dangerous, uncharted waters.

She wasn't sure if she'd sink or swim.

Lost in thought, Jane didn't notice Maura until she was standing next to the booth.

"Hello," Maura greeted breathlessly, a massive grin on her face. Maura had to raise her voice to be heard.

"Happy birthday," Jane retorted, raising her own voice in kind. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am," Maura enthused, sliding in across from Jane. "No one has ever thrown me a surprise party before."

Jane tamped down on the anger she automatically felt towards Maura's parents, friends. Her instinct was to hunt them down, make them hurt for all the ways they had hurt her. Instead, she focused on Maura. On the here and now.

"Well I'm sorry it wasn't fancy," Jane shrugged. "But it's the best we could do."

"It's perfect," Maura soothed. "And _we_? I got the distinct impression that you're responsible for all of this."

Jane flushed, averted her gaze. She took a long pull from her beer in order to collect her thoughts. The din of the bar was still too loud to allow for normal conversation.

"I have uh," Jane faltered. "I have a little something for you."

"You do?" Maura asked, surprise and excitement lighting her from the inside.

Jane put the box on the table but didn't let go. She'd wrapped it herself and it showed. Now she wished she had gotten someone else to do it.

"You didn't have to do that," Maura whispered. Her eyes were glassy and she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the box.

"Could we go outside for a minute?" Jane hated how shy she sounded. "It's kinda loud in here."

"Yes," Maura nodded. Jane stood, allowed Maura to precede her through the crowd.

Outside, the wind picked up around them and Maura shivered. Jane shrugged out of her jacket and draped it over Maura's bare shoulders.

Smiling her thanks, Maura pulled the fabric tightly around herself.

"Happy birthday," Jane held the box out. "Don't get too excited."

Maura's hand trembled as she reached for the package.

"Did you wrap this?" Maura asked.

"Yeah," Jane groaned. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll get my Ma to do it."

"No!" Maura protested, delicately peeling at the tape. "I uh, I like that you did it."

Flushing, Jane shifted awkwardly.

"Come on," Jane urged. "Just rip it."

Maura looked horrified at the prospect. Jane laughed whole-heartedly and nudged her softly.

Sighing, Maura unwrapped the box with a bit more force. Her brow furrowed as she inspected the plastic box.

Inside there was a single cupcake, a candle sticking out. The frosting was sloppy, the sprinkles uneven.

"You made this?" Maura breathed.

"I followed my Ma's recipe," Jane shrugged. "But yeah, I made it. You mentioned that your parents always bought your cakes and how you wondered what it was like to have homemade stuff for your birthday…"

Suddenly feeling awkward and foolish in the face of Maura's silence, Jane trailed off.

"It was stupid," Jane scoffed, reaching for the box. Maura jerked back, sheltering it from Jane's grasp.

"No!" Maura exclaimed, swallowing harshly. "No. It's… it's perfect, Jane. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Jane replied. Maura's diligent protection of the cupcake soothed her. She pulled a lighter out of her pocket, flipping open the top of the box to light the single candle. "Just make a wish."

The wind made the flame jump, and Jane crowded in to block it without thinking. Their bodies were nearly touching, their faces only inches apart.

Maura met her eyes, held them.

The endless chasm of emotion nearly brought Jane to her knees. She was glad she wasn't the one making the wish because she wouldn't have been able to expel a breath if her life depended on it.

When Maura inhaled, blew gently to extinguish the candle, Jane felt the earth shift beneath her.

And still they didn't look away.

"Did you make a wish?" Jane's raspy, hushed voice wrapped around them.

"Yes," Maura breathed. "I wished-"

"You can't tell me," Jane cut her off, her voice an octave too high. "Otherwise it won't come true."

"It's a wish," Maura scolded softly, but there was a distinct note of disappointment in her tone. "It can't come true, Jane."

Their eyes were still locked, and Jane realized her hand was resting over Maura's around the cupcake box. Maura's hand was soft, smooth, delicate.

It was the complete opposite of Casey's. Jane hated herself for making the comparison.

"Jane," Maura sighed breathlessly, her words a plea.

Jane broke the eye contact, looking around. She stepped back from the danger of Maura's body, the magnetic pull of her scent.

"Well," she cleared her throat. "We should get back inside. Don't want to monopolize all of the birthday girl's time."

"You're entitled to," Maura replied. "You made all of this happen."

"Lots of people helped."

"I know it was you," Maura soothed. "Why don't you want the credit?"

"Because it's not a big deal."

In truth, it shouldn't have been. Throwing a surprise party for your best friend shouldn't have been so monumental. Shouldn't have felt so… damning.

But Jane was afraid of what Maura had wished for.

She was afraid that Maura had wished for the same thing Jane had been wishing for since they met.

Most of all, she was afraid Maura's wish would come true.

Was equally terrified that it wouldn't.

"It is to me," Maura challenged, chin down, eyes averted. "No one has ever done this for me."

"It's just a party and a cupcake," Jane protested.

"No," Maura shook her head, cutting her off. She seemed to be gathering her courage and Jane was terrified when Maura met her gaze. "No one has ever loved me like you do."

"Hey Janie!" Frankie burst out of the Dirty Robber and Jane jumped away from Maura, suddenly realizing how close she'd been standing. "Where'd you guys go?"

"We're coming," Jane answered. She avoided looking at Maura, waited for her to go inside.

Jane took a few panting breaths of the cool air before rejoining the party. Inside, she found Frost and he seemed to _know_.

"I can't," Jane exhaled raggedly.

Frost didn't respond, simply put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He had no words of advice, no easy answers.

He made her excuses when she slipped out without speaking to Maura.

It was only when she got home that Jane realized Maura still had her blazer.

Jane avoided being alone with Maura after that. Tried to remind herself of the promises she'd made.

Of the life she'd chosen.

Frost's watchful eye kept her from slipping up, from giving in.

After that night at the bar, he never let Jane stray far from his side. He followed her to the morgue, intervened when she made excuses to see Maura when it wasn't necessary.

Sometimes, his intrusive chaperoning made Jane angry. It pissed her off that he felt like he had the right to interfere in her life, to make choices for her.

But secretly, she was grateful.

Jane knew she couldn't trust herself.

She was honest. Moral. Upright.

She valued her vows. She took the sanctity of marriage to heart.

Maura… Maura was more than all that.

There was something about Maura that knocked the breath out of Jane.

They argued, pushed, pulled, but always came back to each other. It was destiny, fate, all the unseen forces of the universe that Jane never used to believe in.


	5. Why do you stay in prison

It had been a hellish day.

A horrible, long, absolutely no good, _hellish_ day.

Jane had been tackled by a three-hundred pound suspect. Casey was out of town, and before he left they argued. Frost was mad at her, for god only knew what reason.

It only made sense then, at the end of her day, to head to Maura's. She hadn't seen the M.E. since breakfast and Jane was in desperate need of some TLC- not that she'd ever admit it out loud.

Her body took her to Maura's house practically on autopilot. The car nearly steered itself.

She needed this.

So when she got to Maura's house and the lights were off, Jane let herself in. The familiar comfort of Maura's home wrapped around her and immediately some of the tension drained from her shoulders.

Snagging a beer from the fridge, she drained half of it in one sip and then released a heavy exhale. Her mind was too cloudy to finish the beverage but the taste had the intended effect. She further relaxed, processing that she was finally safe and comfortable and in a position to unwind.

Maybe she could even talk Maura into cooking some dinner for her.

Her entire body ached from taking the hit their suspect delivered and Jane headed for Maura's spare bathroom, shucking her shoes, her blazer, her shirt. A long, hot shower was in order.

Maura's elaborate, expensive shower was just the ticket.

When Jane opened the door to the bathroom, it was too late. Her mind didn't filter the light under the doorway fast enough and what she saw made her stomach drop.

There was a woman inside. A beautiful, naked, stranger.

In Maura's bathtub.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jane blurted.

The woman raised one perfectly arched eye-brow.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her lips turned up in a small grin. "I'm Sam."

The name didn't help Jane pull herself together any. She was still gaping, her hand on the doorknob.

"Can I," Sam chuckled. "Help you with something?"

"No," Jane shut the door, squeezed her eyes shut. She raised her voice when she spoke again. "Sorry."

The front door opened and Jane felt panic and sorrow and something else roiling in her gut.

"They didn't have Cherry Garcia," Maura's voice floated down the hall. "So I got Chunky Monkey instead. I hope that's alri- _oh_."

Maura rounded the corner and stood awkwardly in front of Jane.

"Hello, Jane," she said evenly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Jane sighed. She realized she wasn't wearing a shirt and she scrambled to pick it up off the floor, hissing in pain when her battered body protested.

"You're not fine," Maura rushed forward, her cool hand going to Jane's bicep. "Come sit down."

Maura guided her to the couch and handed her the discarded shirt. Then she collected the rest of Jane's scattered belongings and placed them neatly near the door. She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and Jane realized she'd been clenching her jaw.

She tried to stop grinding her teeth. To focus. To flee.

But her mind and her body just couldn't seem to get on the same page. She was frozen. Stuck. Paralyzed.

"What happened?" Maura returned to stand in front of her, handing Jane an ice pack and indicating the oversized bruise on her ribcage. Her general state of disheveled, undressed ruin.

"Nothing," Jane refused the ice pack, standing. Her head swam.

She couldn't stop picturing Maura in the tub with Sam. It was making her dizzy. And nauseous. She sat back down abruptly.

"Jane?" Maura's voice sounded strangely far away. "Jane, can you hear me?"

"What?" Jane closed her eyes and tried to breathe. "Yeah. I'm sorry to bust in on… whatever this is."

"It's a date," Maura said softly, simply.

"Fuck," Jane bit. "I'm sorry. I'm going now. I'm just…"

Leaping up, she swayed slightly on her feet. The door seemed so far away. What the fuck was she doing?

"Let me help you," Maura coaxed softly. But instead of helping Jane to the door she guided her down the hall. Where Jane would have stopped at the guest room, Maura kept on going, deposited Jane on her bed.

Jane was too confused, weak, dizzy, to argue.

Maura lowered Jane to the bed with soft hands and a gentle touch. She kept the main light off and instead flicked on the bedside lamp with a quick hand.

"I'll be right back," she breathed.

And then in the distant corner of her mind, Jane could hear rustling. Discussion elevating to argument. Frustration. Anger. Disappointment.

Silence.

Footsteps. The front door slamming.

And then Maura was sitting on the bed next to her, a soothing hand brushing the hair back out of her face.

"Are you ok?"

Jane clenched her jaw.

She was fucking everything up.

She was ruining her life.

And now, she was ruining Maura's life.

"I'm sorry," she gritted. "I shouldn't have come."

"Don't be ridiculous," Maura retorted, though her gentle hand in Jane's hair took some of the edge away from the sharpness of her tone. "I can't believe you even made it to my house, let alone to your own. You're a mess."

"Gee, thanks," Jane snorted.

But Maura was right.

"You're injured and exhausted," Maura's voice left no room for argument. "You should have called me. I would have come pick you up."

"I did call you," Jane tried not to sound so damn whiny. "You didn't answer. I figured you were working late. I was… I was, uh, thinking…"

And there was the problem.

She wasn't thinking.

She wasn't fucking thinking at all.

She was feeling.

And when she was tired and ready to give up, all she could feel was a desire to be with Maura.

That desire, in fact, was spreading to more things, more feelings.

She wanted to be with Maura.

All the fucking time.

"I'm sorry," Maura apologized. "My phone must have been on vibrate. I was on a date and…"

"Fuck," Jane exhaled raggedly. "Why do you let me do this?"

"Do what?"

"Ruin your life," Jane replied. "Barge in on your dates. Stop you from being happy just because my life is such a fucking wreck."

"You are not ruining my life," Maura's voice was surprisingly sharp. "And I am happy. And your life is not a wreck."

She stood abruptly.

Jane missed her touch immensely.

"Frankly, Jane," Maura continued. "If that's what you think…"

She turned to step away and Jane's arm shot out, grabbing Maura's wrist to halt her retreat.

"Wait," Jane begged. "I didn't mean that. I don't think that at all. I hope you're happy- you make me so fucking happy it's crazy. I know my life isn't a wreck. Things are just sort of… confusing, lately. And today was such a long day and you know I'm full of shit, Maur. Please don't go."

Maura eyed her warily before her face relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry you had such a long day," she sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. "How can I help?"

"Well," Jane licked her lips nervously. "I could really use a shower."

Silently, Maura left the room and a moment later Jane heard the shower running. She laid immobile in Maura's soft, oversized bed. Wondered what the hell she was doing.

"Come with me," Maura coaxed softly, returning to extend a hand to Jane. She led her out and down the hall to the bathroom.

Jane pointedly avoided looking at the bathtub.

She showered and when she emerged, clean and exhausted, she could smell something divine wafting down the hall. Maura had left a Sox t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants on the counter and Jane paused for a moment.

What the hell was she doing?

This wasn't right.

It shouldn't _feel_ right.

But it did.

There was nowhere else she would rather be.

It made her want to run. To flee.

To hide.

From Maura. From herself.

Instead, she took a deep breath and headed into the kitchen. There was a full meal set out at a simple setting. Pasta, a salad, a roll. A glass of water and a fresh beer.

Maura was working at the counter and she didn't turn when Jane entered, took a seat at the island.

"I've got some tiramisu for dessert," she said. "I hope you're hungry."

Jane couldn't speak past the emotions welling in her throat and choking her.

"Jane?" Maura finally turned. A bit of chocolate was smeared on her cheek.

Jane's mouth went dry.

The simple, casual domesticity of the moment, that Maura knew exactly what she needed without being asked or told, how unbelievably gorgeous the other woman was…

Jane's battered body and mind couldn't handle the overload.

She was standing in front of Maura before she realized she'd decided to move. Maura backed up against the counter, her breathing heavy.

"Jane?" she repeated, softer this time.

Jane raised her hand to wipe Maura's cheek. Her hand shook.

When she touched Maura's soft skin, Maura's eyes fluttered closed. Jane watched, almost in a trance.

She couldn't speak. Even though she'd cleared the smudge on the first pass, she couldn't relinquish her hold on Maura.

It was like watching from a distance, like trying to see through an impenetrable fog.

"Maura," she breathed, her voice a nearly inaudible rasp.

Maura opened her eyes. They were dark, almost black. Her lower lip trembled.

Jane slid her thumb over and rested the pad against Maura's lower lip, swiping across with deliberate slowness.

Maura leaned back, her brow furrowing. She blinked, and the look in her eyes shifted to something else.

Fear.

It made Jane step back instinctively.

"I'm sorry," she growled, swallowing to clear the gravel from her throat.

Maura stepped away from the counter and into the open space near the island.

"That's alright," Maura replied. "You should eat. I'm just going to go to bed. It's been a long day. You're welcome to stay in the guest bedroom, as usual."

Jane nodded mutely, her heart sinking.

She waited until Maura disappeared before putting the dinner in Tupperware and sticking it in the fridge. She was too nauseas to eat.

The tiramisu lay forgotten on the counter.

Despite how dangerously tired she was, how badly she wanted to stay, Jane drove home that night.

She slept on Casey's side of the bed. Spun her wedding ring and stared at the ceiling.

This was insane. It was crazy. It was irrational.

She was straight.

And married.

And straight.

And Maura was her best friend. Her coworker. A woman.

This fleeting attraction couldn't, _wouldn't_, last.

It certainly wasn't worth ruining her life over. Or hurting Casey.

She would resist.

Try harder.

Do better.


	6. Find all the barriers within

On the anniversary of their first meeting, Maura left a box of chocolates on Jane's desk. The note affixed was scrawled in her graceful, looping script.

_To my best friend, Jane. I love you._

Nothing too fancy, nothing too wordy.

Just the honest, simple truth.

And that was what made it so painful.

The honest, simple truth was something Jane couldn't deny any more, couldn't run from, couldn't hide.

She gave the chocolates to Frost. Spent twenty minutes in the bathroom dry heaving, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

The card she'd bought for Maura burned a hole in her pocket, but she couldn't give it to her friend.

It felt too… intentional.

Jane always forgot her anniversaries. Had to write down the date of her wedding so she'd remember to celebrate.

But the day she met Maura was burned into her mind. She could never forget.

When she returned from the bathroom, Frost's eyes pierced her façade of normalcy. Luckily, he seemed to sense she was in no shape to discuss her reaction.

Maura sauntered in a moment later, all wide, bright eyes and long, smooth legs and…

"Jane?" Maura's voice indicated she was repeating the name for at least the second time.

"Yeah," Jane cleared her throat. "What?"

"I was asking if you'd like to join me for dinner," Maura replied.

As Jane was preparing to accept, she caught Frost's eye. Jane hadn't been home for dinner with Casey in eight nights, a fact she was certain Frost was aware of.

"I uh," Jane swallowed harshly. "I'd love to but I should go home, have dinner with Casey."

"Of course," Maura allowed graciously, but Jane could see the disappointment in her eyes.

Jane wanted to smooth away her rejection with her lips, to assure Maura of her importance with soft hands in the dark of her bedroom. She wanted to shower her with tender attention in a tangle of naked limbs.

"Perhaps another time," Maura added.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "Another time."

They returned to their work, and Jane silently berated herself.

Soon, she'd have to do something.

She would have to choose.

It terrified her.

When the day wound down and the bullpen emptied, Jane found herself dragging her feet.

The note from Maura sat in her pocket. The half-empty box of chocolates balanced on the corner of Frost's desk. A voicemail from Casey flashed on her cell.

Needing a physical release from some of her tension, she made her way to the precinct gym.

A few rounds at the punching bag would help her clear her mind. And then she would go home and have dinner with her husband. Whom she loved.

Loosening up, Jane danced around the heavy bag.

Her haphazardly wrapped hands delivered blow after blow, her anger escalating the more her mind raced.

What had she done to deserve this?

_Jab, cross, jab._

Hadn't she always tried to be a good daughter, friend, cop, wife?

_Cross, hook, jab._

Hadn't she always tried to lead a good life, make the right choices?

_Hook, uppercut, jab._

Why was the universe punishing her like this?

_Jab, jab, haymaker._

She wasn't strong enough for this.

Sweat coated her body as she moved around the bag. Her anger morphed and grew as she felt the familiar weight of her desire settle over her. She discarded her shirt, throwing it recklessly aside.

It angered her, how easily just the thought of Maura made Jane's vision hazy, made her mind and body a blur of aching need.

Jane didn't usually allow herself to think about Maura- it was a slippery slope, but in the dim, empty gym she let her mind wander.

She wondered what it would be like to kiss Maura. To press her lips against that full, soft mouth and taste her.

What it would be like to hold her. To undress her, one article of clothing at a time, and touch each area of revealed skin with her scarred, worn palms.

What it would be like to make love to her. To trail lingering kisses and soft caresses over every, intimate inch of Maura until she couldn't bear the agonizing pleasure and she came apart in Jane's arms.

Jane was working the bag furiously now, her movements uncoordinated, her emotions taking control of her body.

She lost her footing momentarily and smacked her face against the bag, her nose taking the brunt of the blow.

"Shit," she swore. "Fuck. God _damn_ it."

There was noise, the slightest movement, and she realized she wasn't alone.

Maura stepped out of the shadows as if out of a dream, and for a moment Jane considered whether the woman was a mirage. In tight yoga capris and a tank top, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, she looked casual and vulnerable.

The sight of her made something in Jane, already riding a razor's edge, snap.

It was almost audible, the way her control splintered apart in the dim, dank space.

Jane's brow furrowed as she held the bridge of her nose.

"Oh Jane!" Maura exclaimed, stepping forwards. "Let me see that."

"It's fine," Jane bit, knowing the doctor's touch would be her complete undoing. "Why are you here?"

"I thought I'd work out," Maura said. "I was watching your form. You seem to have lost your coordination there at the end."

"No _shit_, Sherlock," Jane huffed, wiping a bit of blood on her shorts.

Maura's face reflected her hurt and Jane closed her eyes, praying for patience she knew she didn't possess.

"Have I done something to upset you?" Maura asked timidly.

"No," Jane groused.

"Are you sure?" Maura pressed softly. "Because you seem to be upset with me. You didn't want to have dinner with me and now you're angry and I'm sure whatever it is I didn't mean-"

"You didn't do anything," Jane grumbled sharply. "It's fine."

Maura's lower lip trembled. She took a step towards Jane as if to reach for her but paused awkwardly when she became aware of herself.

"If you're sure," she hesitated.

Jane was desperately volatile, treacherous.

Days, weeks, months of this, of Maura's soft looks and kind touches and… it was too much. It was sheer torture. One more year, or two, or five, or ten more- it would kill Jane. She couldn't stand it.

It was now or never.

For what, Jane couldn't quite say.

She just knew that they had been at a tipping point since they met, balancing precariously on the edge of something visceral, extreme. Now, she was going to push them over.

Where or how they would fall, she didn't know.

But it had to end.

Tonight.

She let her gaze drag deliberately from Maura's toes to her eyes. It was virtually impossible to keep her focus moving; she wanted to linger on shapely calves, luscious hips, tantalizing breasts…

"You really don't know?" she rumbled.

The hitch in Maura's breath was audible. She swallowed harshly, her eyes glued to Jane's.

It made Jane's gut clench.

Maura _did _know.

"No," she shook her head. _Lied._ The significance of that wouldn't hit Jane until much later. "I don't know."

"Come on," Jane challenged darkly.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, but she was too far in now to give up, to back down.

"Jane," Maura's voice shook.

"I can't_ think_ when you're near me," Jane rasped, stepping even closer to Maura.

Maura's eyes dropped to Jane's lips. Jane's eyes darkened, her heart pounding.

"What are you doing?" Maura whispered, stepping back.

Jane followed. Maura retreated. Jane followed. Maura retreated.

When Maura's back hit the wall, Jane put a hand on either side of her head, palms braced against the cool concrete.

"Not thinking," Jane breathed, the words fanning Maura's lips. She slid her hands down until they were cupping Maura's hips. Both women exhaled raggedly at the intimate, deeply possessive contact.

"Are you drunk?" Maura asked quietly, her voice quivering.

Jane's harsh bark of laughter echoed through the dark space.

"Would it make you feel better if I said yes?"

Maura shook her head, _no_.

"Why are you doing this?" Maura whispered, her eyes closing.

Jane had been asking herself the same thing for hours, days, weeks. The answer was always the same.

"I can't stop myself."

Their bodies were inches apart. Chests heaving, wild eyes dilated, lips parted, everything about them was feral, _unstoppable_.

"What are you doing to me?" Jane whispered, her voice pained.

She leaned down, intent on kissing Maura. It was greater than anything she'd felt before, the pull in that moment. It was stronger than her, this single-minded desire.

_Just once,_ she told herself. She could do that.

She could have this, could take what Maura was so clearly offering.

She'd ruin everything good in her life but it would be worth it.

It struck Jane then, how much relationships were like tectonic plates.

Sometimes you build a relationship over a fault line; maybe it doesn't shift for a month, a year, ten years, one hundred. But then the plates inevitably push up against each other and cause quakes and instability and eruptions and occasionally they create impassable mountain ranges that can't be climbed or deep chasms that can't be bridged.

Sometimes it happens over hundreds, thousands, of years. And sometimes that shift is abrupt, instantaneous.

This was so clearly the latter.

She could practically feel the ground shifting beneath them.

She didn't know how to stop it.

"Jane," Frost's harsh voice cut through the haze around her and she jolted, the sound rattling her.

She didn't move away but her attention turned to the source of the intrusion.

Maura's eyes were closed tightly, her lips parted, her breath coming in uneven pants. She was flushed and trembling and Jane wanted to take what was in front of her more than she'd ever wanted anything else in her entire life.

"Hit the showers, Jane," Frost ordered.

Jane turned to tell him to fuck off, to get lost, but as she did, Maura slipped around her and fled.

"Fuck!" Jane exclaimed when she and Frost were alone, slamming her palm harshly against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frost demanded, still not moving from the doorway.

"What business is it of yours?" Jane yelled.

Rage coursed through her, fueling her desire and making her head spin.

"You're my friend," Frost hit her with a hard glare, his voice softening. "And my partner. Beyond that, the Doc is your colleague, your _friend_. You're playing with fire and you're sure as hell gonna get burnt. And you're gonna hurt a lot of people in the process. What the hell are you thinking, acting like this at the precinct? If you're gonna fuck up your whole life then at least have the sense to do it somewhere a little more private."

Jane heard the warning, knew he was right.

Anyone could have walked in, could have seen them.

What worried her most was that she didn't care.

She didn't fucking care.

She had touched Maura, had felt the smooth fullness of her hips and the perfect fit of her waist.

Jane would be willing to burn in hell for all eternity just to be able to do that again.

And burn she would.

_Casey._

The thought was like ice, sluicing over her heated skin.

"Frost," she croaked, tears building behind her eyes. "What am I doing?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "But you better figure it out, and quick."

There was a long silence and Jane felt that she had done something irreversible. It settled around her, choking her, closing in on her.

Now she could only hope to contain the damage.

"I can't be around her," Jane admitted.

"Ok," Frost nodded, totally neutral.

"Will you," Jane swallowed, her voice a hoarse rasp. "Take on another M.E.?"

"If that's what it takes," Frost said. "You know I will."

Jane knew that requesting assignment to another M.E. would hurt Maura. Damage her. That it would wound her in ways Jane couldn't even bring herself to consider.

That it would snuff out the flame roaring to life between them.

But that was what she had to do.

She had to snuff out that flame before it burned her alive.

And she didn't see another way.

She had to.

She needed space, distance. She needed to live the life she'd chosen.

Maura made that impossible.

She'd tried self-control, and it was clear that would never be enough.

When it came to Maura, she just couldn't help herself.

She couldn't stop.

Something greater than the two of them was in control, and resisting was as futile as trying to hold back a tsunami with her bare hands.

So.

Jane knew that requesting a transfer to a new M.E. might end her relationship with Maura. That it would fundamentally alter their friendship, and probably bring the connection between them to an end.

She knew that Maura might never speak to her again.

The thought was almost too agonizing to bear.

But then she thought about Maura's pained expression when Frost interrupted, and hated herself for what she was doing to her best friend.

It wasn't fair.

None of it was fair.

That was something Jane was slowly coming to terms with.


	7. Nothing can be told of love

Jane requested the transfer. As she filled in the form, her hands shook. Frost gave her a wide berth that day, barely stopping her from pummeling a suspect into the ground.

When Jane came down for an update on their latest victim, Maura was in her office. It was their last case together, but Jane still hadn't found the courage to tell Maura.

It was cowardly to let the higher-ups inform her friend, but she worried that Maura would ask her _why_ and she wouldn't be able to answer. Not without lying. Or without confessing.

Neither option was appealing.

Jane rapped lightly on the doorframe, instantly noticing Maura's distress.

"What's wrong?" Jane entered swiftly.

Maura looked up with her with wide, watery eyes, a piece of paper clutched in one hand.

"You don't want me anymore?"

"What?" Jane croaked. Being stabbed had hurt less than the utter betrayal shining out at her in Maura's glistening eyes.

"Cavanaugh told me you asked to be assigned to a new M.E.," Maura said. "He didn't want me to be caught off guard when the paperwork came through."

Jane closed the door, closed her eyes, slumped back against the solid surface, needing the support.

"I just couldn't…" Jane didn't know how to explain.

"I had a plant when I was eleven," Maura looked up at Jane with that sorrowful, glassy gaze. "An Anthurium andraeanum- the flamingo lily. They have such beautiful flowers." Her wistful voice trailed off and Jane felt the ache in her chest grow tenfold.

"Anyway," Maura shook off the memories. "My parents bought it for me so I'd have something to occupy my curiosity with science and nature, and to keep me busy while they were in Barcelona for the winter."

Jane's confusion, sorrow, and anger at the way Maura's parents never really tried to understand her washed away some of her grief at the events unfolding around her but she was quickly brought back from the tangent.

"When they bought it I did all the research I could on how to care for it," Maura continued. "But they're quite temperamental. Outside their natural environment, they really require a greenhouse to survive, let alone to thrive. My parents were convinced I could just water it and leave it on the windowsill and it would be alright. I wanted them to be right- I wanted to believe them. So even though I knew it would never be successful, I continued to water it and manipulate the lighting to suit it. I knew it would never thrive but I kept repotting it and repositioning it and fertilizing it. I managed to keep it alive but it never flowered, never bloomed or grew beyond its initial size."

Jane felt the overwhelming urge to stop Maura, to keep her from vocalizing what Jane had been fearing for weeks. If she said it out loud, it would be real.

"It's like that," Maura sighed. "Our relationship. I know it won't grow past the point its at now- that neither science nor love and affection can alter nature, reality. But I keep trying because I want to believe in it. I have spent my whole life dedicated to systematic inquiry and certainty and facts. Since my parents bought me that plant I haven't done anything that attempts to subvert reality. Until I met you."

"What happened to the plant?" Jane rumbled, surprised to hear her own voice. She found herself desperate to know, even though she felt confident she could guess.

"It died," Maura looked away absently. "When I went to college. My parents threw it away."

Jane squeezed her eyes shut.

"Are you going to throw me away?" Jane asked, immediately feeling idiotic. She was the one pushing Maura away, after all.

"You're not a plant," Maura rasped. "You're my best friend. I'm not going to go off and let you die. But I can't stop our relationship from withering."

"Not all plants are supposed to flower," Jane suggested, hating herself. "Right? I mean, a lot of them are just green all the time. Like ferns."

"Yes, Jane," Maura allowed. "You're right. Some plants are never supposed to flower. Perhaps our relationship was never supposed to flower either."

"That's not what I meant," Jane trailed off.

"Isn't it?" Maura challenged softly. "You want our relationship to be a fern, if you will, so that you don't have to feel bad when you stop it from blooming."

"Maura," Jane tried to interrupt but Maura shook her head.

"No, Jane," Maura stopped her. "It's alright. I… understand. I'm not trying to push you. You've made promises, and I respect that greatly. I admire you for having the courage to do what I can't. I've had my heart broken before, this won't be any different. But please don't think I'm… unaware. I feel it too, you know."

"God, Maura," Jane groaned. "I'm not breaking your heart."

"You are," Maura said simply, her voice even. Like she was reciting 1+1=2. "But I'm sure I'll eventually learn to live with it."

Not, _stop loving you_ or _get over it._

Learn to live with it.

Jane hated the look in Maura's eyes. The defeated slump to her shoulders. Standing there, her eyes glassy with tears, her shoulders back, posture straight, Maura looked like a tragic Greek goddess.

Jane wanted to curl up and die for putting that look in Maura's eyes. If anyone else had put that look in her best friend's eyes, Jane would have vowed to make them pay for it.

As it was, she was helpless to respond.

"I think you should go," Maura prompted. "Dr. Teich will call you when the results of that tox screen are back."

Helpless, Jane stood for a moment, wanting nothing more than to step forwards and take Maura in her arms.

To apologize.

To beg, plead, cry.

"Go, Jane," Maura whispered. "Please."

Turning, Jane fled. In the elevator, she realized the thing blurring her vision was tears.

That night, Jane went home early. She curled up in the big leather armchair and cried.

She should have felt relieved. She'd done the right thing.

She had chosen commitment and promises, her husband and her word.

She had made the right choice, the moral choice.

She had done the right thing, damn it.

She should have felt good.

Instead, she felt like a part of herself had died.

She awoke with a start when the front door closed. She didn't bother getting up, knowing Casey would find her.

It only took him a minute.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, appraising her with a soft look.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," Jane blurted, her voice ragged.

Casey's brow furrowed and he came into the room, crouching in front of her. He put his hands on her legs, stroking gently.

"What are you talking about?" he coaxed.

"I…" Jane paused, felt the words get caught in her throat. "I think I'm falling in love with Maura."

Casey looked shocked, then upset, the two emotions tangling together into something Jane couldn't read.

"You what?" he asked softly. His hands stilled on her legs.

"I didn't mean to," Jane rasped.

Wordlessly, Casey stood and left the room.

Jane exhaled harshly.

She hadn't meant to tell him. Hadn't meant to say anything.

But if she'd learnt anything in the past few months, it's that nothing went like she planned.

And that when it came to Maura, Jane had absolutely no control.

Jane waited a few minutes before following Casey. He was standing at the back door, looking out over the city.

"Nothing happened," Jane said. "And it never will. I requested a new M.E."

"Why?" Casey sounded genuinely curious.

"Because you're my husband," Jane replied. "And I love you."

"I love you too," Casey responded. He had never once failed to return the sentiment when she professed her love.

"I just didn't want," Jane felt herself making up an excuse, a reason. Casey deserved the truth. "I wanted to tell you. So you can leave me."

"Is that what you want?" Casey turned to face her. His eyes were sorrowful, defeated.

"I don't know," Jane admitted, shame flushing her face a violent crimson.

"You should probably figure it out," Casey suggested gently. Jane could see clearly now that he was resigned.

It occurred to her that he'd been able to read her, all these weeks. He'd known, on some level.

Jane had never felt so low.

"You'd pick me?" Casey breathed. "Over her?"

"I did," Jane said. "I _do_."

"That's noble," Casey told her. "But foolish."

Jane's head snapped up, her eyes cutting to his in shock.

"Even a blind man can see that you two have something…" Casey struggled to describe it. "You have something people would die for, Jane. Something that people have killed for. And nothing has even happened between the two of you. I can't imagine what it would be like, when you finally admit to each other how you feel."

"I'm not going to tell her," Jane stammered.

"If you want me to…" Casey stepped forwards, cupped the back of Jane's neck with one large, rough hand. His eyes pierced her, and for a moment she'd never felt so vulnerable. "I will stay with you forever. I said,_ 'til death do us part_, and I meant it. But Jane, that wouldn't be fair to either of us. Or to Maura."

"Casey," Jane leaned her forehead against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you," Casey said. He waited a beat before continuing. "I was just offered a three-month tour training new recruits in Kandahar. I'm going to take it. Maybe you could use that time to figure out how you feel. You can consider what _you_ want, what's right for you- not what I need or what Maura needs."

"Don't," Jane pleaded. "I can't…"

Casey stepped back.

"I want to go," he told her. "I want to go and it will give you time and it's the right thing, Jane. After all, you can't help who you love."

"So now I've lost both of you?" Jane felt a tear leak out, then another.

"You'll never lose me," Casey breathed. "I'll always be here when you need me. And I think you'll find you haven't lost Maura- that you never really will. There's something there Jane. Don't throw it away."

He padded to their bedroom, left the door ajar.

That night they shared the bed but Jane did not reach out to him for comfort.

Two days later, Casey shipped out. Jane saw him to the airport, kissed him goodbye. Tucked a letter in his pocket, same as she always had.

But they both knew it was a crossroads for them. And neither of them could read the unfamiliar terrain. Neither of them had a map for the journey ahead.

Jane returned to her apartment and felt utterly defeated, completely dejected, hollow and alone.

But her stubbornness reared its head.

She would figure this out.

She would consider it from every angle. Approach it rationally, with distance from Maura and Casey.

It was the only way.

There had to be an answer.

A solution.

She would figure it out.

She had to.

She realized now that she loved Casey. But she was _in love_ with Maura.

Before, she'd heard people draw that distinction and she'd snorted- laughed.

How could there be a difference?

But there was.

There _was_.

What she felt for Casey was only marginally different from what she felt for Frankie, for Angela, for Tommy. It was only incrementally different from what she felt for Korsak, for Frost.

What she felt for Maura…

Jane had never encountered such a feeling. In fact, a few weeks after they met, she took an afternoon off to go to the library.

In a hushed, sheepish whisper she had asked the librarian where she could read about… love. The elderly, portly man had given her a strange, penetrating look and directed her to two separate sections.

Poetry and Self-help.

She had been too nervous and shy to check anything out but she'd made notes in a small journal. It felt monumental, secretive…

But it was also quite revealing.

Every sonnet, every verse, every lyrical rhyme made her think of Maura. Finally, here were people who understood how she felt about her best friend.

There, in uncharted water in the Boston Public Library, Jane found a lifeline.

And now, months later, the words of Ella Wheeler Wilcox's, _Ad Finem_ whispered through her head.

_For why should I fan, or feed with fuel,_

_A love that showed me but blank despair?_

_So my hold was firm, and my grasp was cruel-_

_I meant to strangle it then and there!_

_I thought it was dead. But with no warning,_

_It rose from its grave last night, and came_

_And stood by my bed till the early morning,_

_And over and over it spoke your name._

_Its throat was red where my hands had held it;_

_It burned my brow with its scorching breath;_

_And I said, the moment my eyes beheld it,_

_"A love like this can know no death."_

She was in love with Maura. She loved Casey.

Her heart knew what it wanted, who it longed for, but her mind… She had taken vows, made promises, married her best friend.

Her _former_ best friend.

Breaking his heart made her feel lower than… anything.

A little voice whispered through her head. The words were from one of the self-help books, but surprisingly the voice was Angela's.

_You deserve all the happiness in the world. You deserve love._

Jane tried to convince herself, repeating the words over and over in her head. The thoughts followed her into a restless sleep.


	8. I want to know the joy

Jane was beyond frustrated.

It was crushingly hot in her apartment. Even in nothing more than her wife-beater and cotton briefs, she was sweating.

The air conditioner had broken two days earlier and the city was experiencing one of the worst heat waves in twenty years.

The real reason for her frustration was more problematic than the heat.

She was so fucking turned on she couldn't think.

And for whatever reason, her brain wouldn't shut off enough for her body to find release.

She'd tried, unsuccessfully, for the last hour or so. Picked a few choice fantasies. Tried lights on. Lights off. Fan whirring in the background. Absolute silence.

Nothing worked.

She couldn't cross the threshold into release.

She felt murderous.

Worse, she couldn't stop thinking about Maura.

The phantom glide of Maura's hands against her skin made Jane ache.

And she ached in an entirely different way over the silence Maura was treating her to. It had been days since she'd spoken to Maura. Seen her.

It physically hurt.

She wanted to ask Maura how that was possible…

How she could miss Maura intimately when they had never, in fact, been intimate. How could she miss a touch she'd never felt? How could she miss lips she'd never kissed?

Jane hadn't made any headway in her decision. She missed Casey. She missed Maura.

Terrified of losing one or both of them, she felt paralyzed. Equally fearful of hurting them both, of breaking their hearts.

Casey's absence was something she was familiar with, used to. Deployments, the history of their relationship- she had learned how to deal with him being at a distance.

Casey's absence had left a void in Jane's physical life. In the past, she'd been able to deal with it. They had written letters, called, Skyped. She'd learnt to deal with the loneliness and the absence of his touch.

Now though, it wasn't his touch she craved.

It was Maura's.

And Maura's absence was something she was entirely ill-equipped to handle.

Dr. Teich was an adequate medical examiner. He did the job well.

But he guessed and made assumptions. He called unsubstantiated reddish brown stains _blood._ He wore too much cologne. He never laughed at Jane's jokes. He constantly pointed out that her sarcasm was not appreciated. He never touched her softly, or smiled sympathetically, or made her heart pound simply by standing too close.

Closing her eyes, Jane reached for her phone without thinking.

If she could just hear Maura's voice. Just make sure she was ok.

But a dark part deep inside her knew what she really wanted.

It killed her.

She wanted Maura's voice to make her come.

She pressed '1' on her speed-dial and ignored the guilt wrapping around her like a haze.

It rang interminably before Maura's sleep-laced voice greeted her warily.

"Jane?" she asked suspiciously. The soft tumble of the syllables from her lips made Jane's heart pound.

Suddenly, Jane was at a loss.

She couldn't just ask for what she wanted. And she had no right to ask for anything else. She had no right to ask for anything at all. She'd hurt her friend- fallen in love with her and then pushed her away…

"I uh," she wanted to apologize. But she wasn't sorry.

"I miss you," Maura breathed.

Jane's body reacted instantly. She closed her eyes tightly, biting back a groan.

"I miss you too," Jane replied softly, as if it were her deepest, darkest secret.

"How are you?"

"I can't sleep," Jane admitted.

"I'm sorry," Maura responded. "I heard Casey was deployed. It must be difficult -"

"No," Jane gritted out. "Because of… because of you."

"You can't sleep… because of me?" Maura asked, her confusion clear.

"I can't stop thinking about you," she growled.

"Oh," Maura exhaled shakily. "What… what about me?"

"Everything," Jane wavered, grinding her teeth.

Her boldness failed her somewhat, even in the dark and at such a distance.

There was a long pause and her stomach clenched. Had Maura hung up on her?

Her arousal thrummed through her body like a second pulse. Every beat of her heart pumped desire through her veins.

"What are you doing, Jane?" Maura offered her an out.

Jane hated her for it. For being noble, kind, compassionate. For never taking too much, or taking without asking.

For saving her from herself. It was the same hatred she felt for Frost.

It meant Jane had to admit things she wasn't ready to admit. Had to face things she wasn't prepared to face.

It made it deliberate.

A choice.

"I'm not sure about anything anymore," she confessed. "Except the way you make me feel."

"Jane," Maura moaned her name. "Tell me."

It was all the permission Jane needed.

"I miss your eyes," Jane began. Her free hand grazed her bare thigh softly. "They always tell me what you can't with your words. They're one of my favorite things about you."

"I love your voice," Maura replied, her breath coming too quickly. "I've missed hearing it."

"Maura," Jane warned softly.

She hated the overwhelming vulnerability sweeping through her.

"And your hands," Maura asserted. "So beautiful and strong. I lie awake at night, wondering what it must be like…"

"Maura," Jane begged. She wasn't sure what she was begging for.

Actually, she did.

She just couldn't bring herself to voice the desire, the _need_.

"I want you, Jane," Maura breathed.

Why else would Jane call in the middle of the night?

"I want to stroke every inch of your skin," Maura continued. Her voice was a gravelly rumble that Jane would have sworn she could feel. It was a low, rolling timbre that Jane had never heard from her best friend. "To touch your cheeks, your throat, your breasts. I want to run my hands down your smooth, flat stomach. I want to replace my hands with my lips, to taste the salty tang of your skin. I bet you taste divine, Jane."

"Jesus," Jane clenched her jaw against the raw desire that shot through her.

She palmed her breast, roughly tweaking the nipple.

"But the taste of your skin must be nothing compared to how you taste inside," she went on. "I've longed to taste you since moments after we met. But I'm in no rush. You're worth taking my time. I'd start at your ankles, move up your delicious calves. The way they would flex and ripple under my hands…"

There was rustling on the other end of the line and Jane pictured Maura, alone in bed, naked, touching herself. The image brought a fresh wave of desire crashing over her.

Jane touched herself intimately, feeling the result of simply hearing Maura's voice.

"Are you," Maura's voice faltered. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," Jane breathed heavily. "I'm here."

Her fingers moved purposefully over slick, heated skin.

She wanted to tell Maura to stop. Wanted to take it back.

But she thought she might die if she did.

"I wish I was with you right now," Maura said. "I wish I could see you, feel you. You're so beautiful just looking at you makes me ache. To be with you in bed… I'm not sure I could handle it. I want to touch you, _everywhere_. I miss you so much."

Maura's voice was a sensual, breathy whisper that glided over Jane's skin almost as clearly as her hands would.

Jane could feel herself building to the unbearable peak at an almost alarming rate. She'd already been so close to the edge, and Maura's voice, the thought of her on the other end of the line…

It was too much.

And despite the almost suffocating intimacy of what they were doing, she suddenly didn't want to continue.

It utterly violated her vows, to let Maura hear her coming apart. She knew she'd already fractured her vows, perhaps even broken them irreparably, but she had the sudden knowledge that she'd never get over being connected to Maura as she came.

Her self-preservation instinct kicked in with a violent ferocity.

"Jane," Maura's soft voice was nearly her undoing.

"I have… to," Jane panted harshly. "I have… to go."

There was an endlessly long pause. Jane balanced on the razor-thin precipice between pleasure and pain.

"You," Maura's confusion was laced heavily with desire. "You're leaving?"

"It's too much," Jane groaned, biting her lip, trying to hold the pleasure at bay.

"Alright," Maura whispered raggedly. "Goodnight, Jane."

Jane hung up without responding.

Almost immediately, blinding pleasure crashed over and through her. It was devastating, wracking her body into a trembling mass of sensations. She felt vulnerable, out of control. The rolling waves of pleasure seemed to go on endlessly, panic following quickly on the tail.

As her body settled, so did a feeling of grief and guilt that she never could have fathomed.

She would never forgive herself.

She couldn't fix this now.

Couldn't do the right thing.

She'd tainted Maura, stained her. Made her a party to this devastating wreck.

Despite not working together, it was inevitable that they would run into each other at the precinct, at crime scenes, in the lobby- but that week Maura gave her an undeniably wide berth. That week, Maura consciously avoided her.

It hurt.

Jane was moody and short-tempered as a result. She couldn't seem to find her balance, like she was on too small of a sailboat on too large of a wave.

Then Maura called and asked to speak with her. Said it was urgent. Dread filled the pit of Jane's stomach, settled there like a stone.

When she met Maura after work at an unfamiliar bar around the corner from the precinct, she barely resisted the urge to take a line of shots to quell her nerves.

Maura was waiting for her in a corner booth.

Jane scooted in, keeping as much distance as she could in the small space. She could smell Maura's perfume. The angle allowed her to nonchalantly avoid eye contact.

"Are we friends?" Maura asked, surpassing a greeting and catching Jane totally off guard. Jane realized how much she had missed Maura's voice, missed the raspy rumble of it, the melodic intonation, the laughter that dripped from it when she was happy.

"We are," Jane sighed. "And if you ever need something, you just come ask me. But right now, this is just, it's too-"

"I need something now," Maura interrupted. "I need _you_."

A small shudder ran through Jane. She wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, and she clutched her hands into fists to stop herself.

"You're my only friend," Maura admitted. "I need to understand…"

Jane's eyes narrowed. Her heart ached.

"I can't be there for you right now, Maura," Jane's gaze lowered to the ground. "I'm sorry. I just… can't."

"But I need you," Maura croaked, not trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "And I'm there for you, aren't I?"

"I can't," Jane's low growl startled Maura.

"Jane," Maura tried again.

"Everything's not about you," Jane cut her off, pointing accusatorily at Maura. "Our friendship isn't just about what _you_ need. What about what _I_ need? Huh? Does that not matter to you at all anymore?"

Jane hated herself. She was being unreasonable, unfair- she knew it, but the phone call the other night, the way she wanted nothing more than to kiss Maura senseless, the pleading, lost look on her best friend's face… it was wrecking havoc on her resolve.

And she still hadn't made up her mind about Casey, about her marriage, about her life…

"Of course it matters," Maura stammered. "It matters very much. Haven't I been there for you? Haven't I given you what you need- let you take from me without asking, without looking for anything in return? I'm a forensic scientist, Jane, not a mind reader- how am I supposed to know what you really need when you won't talk to me?"

Jane's chest rose and fell rapidly. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. Her wild eyes flitted to Maura's lips and then back up to meet Maura's eyes.

"You don't have to read my mind to know how I feel," she challenged darkly.

Maura swallowed harshly, wanting to lean away from the physical intensity of the moment but knowing it would end the conversation.

"You're right," she didn't bother evading the accusation, her head bowing. "I knew. Maybe not the extent of it, but I suspected. I just don't know what you want from me."

Jane's brow furrowed as if she were surprised at being told she was correct.

"I love you," Maura whispered.

Jane's head snapped up, her eyes flying to Maura's in desperation.

"Don't look so surprised," Maura sighed. "It's not like you didn't already know that."

"I just," Jane licked her lips nervously. "I didn't expect you to say that."

"Well it's true," Maura shrugged. "You are stubborn and you can never open anything marked, _easy open_, and you don't listen and you frustrate me on purpose and you don't think before you act and I'm angry and upset with you and it feels like I'll never get over it and I…"

Jane looked away, the confession of love growing dimmer with each criticism Maura piled on.

"And for some reason, I still love you."

Jane's heart clenched. Hope sprang up like striking oil inside her. Rivaled only by the fear slowly choking her.

She knew they were on treacherous ground, that there had to be a reason Maura had asked to meet with her.

The tenuous grasp she had on their relationship was anything but sure.

"But I won't be responsible for breaking up a marriage" Maura added softly.

Jane's eyes shut instinctively, as if that would block out some of the pain shooting to every nerve in her body.

"What?" she croaked.

"I won't be responsible-" Maura began to repeat herself.

"I heard you," Jane growled, eyes still tightly shut. "What makes you think…"

"I deserve better than this," Maura whispered, undeterred. "I deserve someone who loves me with their whole heart. And that's not you, Jane. You love your husband, and I just wanted you to know that I'm… I'm not interested in being anything but your friend. I'm not doing this for you- I'm not noble enough to forsake a love like this on someone else's behalf. This is for me, because I value myself too much to spend my life coming in second."

Maura stood, sliding out of the booth. Jane kept her eyes clenched shut as if that might stop Maura from leaving, might stop it from hurting.

"So please, Jane," Maura's words were soft but firm. "Don't call me anymore. If there's an emergency, or you really need something, I'm still here for you. But otherwise… it's not fair for you to treat me this way."

Maura disappeared before Jane could respond, and she opened her eyes just in time to see the woman's retreating form.

Her instinct was to slide under the booth, curl into a ball, and die.

She'd never felt so low.

So lonely.

So utterly despondent.

She had lost Casey, cast him off.

Now, she'd lost Maura.

And she was left with nothing.

No one.


	9. And I am nowhere again

It was all going to hell.

Straight to hell.

Her whole fucking life, blown to smithereens.

They rushed into that goddamned warehouse and Paddy Doyle's body ended up on Maura's table and…

Straight to god damned hell.

Maura didn't speak to her. Casey was thousands of miles away.

Jane had never felt so alone.

The days following the shooting were a hazy mess of loneliness and despair. Jane felt herself withdrawing from everyone around her.

Like Bass pulling into his shell, curling into herself was the only feasible mechanism for survival.

Everything hurt.

Waking up hurt. Breathing hurt. Sleeping hurt. Eating hurt. Thinking hurt.

_Everything._

It all hurt so fucking badly.

Never before in her life had she been so… so broken. Not when her father walked out on her mother. Not with Hoyt. Not when she shot herself.

Not… ever.

Angela told her when the funeral was.

She knew she wasn't invited. She couldn't help herself- she went anyways.

She had to.

The things she did these days were purely on autopilot.

Deep down, some part of her struggled to get free.

Like her heart had been chained and caged, shut in the dark to wither, and for seconds at a time she'd hear the rattling as it tried to escape. But the shackles were too tight, the confines too restricting.

That distant whispering wouldn't let her forget the way she felt about Maura.

_I still love you_.

She wanted to say it. She wanted to _feel_ it.

Because she didn't anymore.

Not really.

She didn't feel anything.

Except that ache.

That hurting, emptiness.

And deep, deep down, that seed of eternal love.

On her way to the funeral she almost pulled over ten times. Almost took an early exit. Almost drove right past the cemetery.

But she had to see Maura.

So she parked away from the site, waited.

From her vantage point, she could see nearly everyone. She looked across the gaping maw and felt her heart pound. The bright sun was totally at odds with the somber mood.

She remained at a distance from the small gathering, knowing her presence was entirely unwelcome. Her form was somewhat shielded by the low hedges she stood behind, but she knew she'd been noticed, despite not being acknowledged.

Patrick Doyle's funeral was a minor affair. A dozen attendees, a priest in black robes, a bagpiper. A group of men in dark suits watched ominously from a distance, not approaching.

Jane knew she shouldn't have come- Maura had told her in no uncertain terms that she was no longer a friend, but she couldn't stay away.

Maura may not have wanted her there, but Jane wanted, _needed_, to be there.

She wanted to look out for her friend, to protect her, to apologize.

She was sorry.

So, so _fucking _sorry.

Not for shooting Doyle, necessarily, but for the repercussions.

_Don't look so worried,_ Maura had said. _What could go wrong?_

Maura shouldn't even have been there that day. But Doyle was her family and Maura wouldn't be deterred. It was supposed to be a simple operation.

Jane had wanted to protest to Cavanaugh but she couldn't say, _sorry but I'm in love with her and the feelings between us would bring the strongest man in the world to his knees so I can't go with her. I can't be near her._

In her gut, she knew that shooting Doyle was the right thing. Even now she could see that. She had to protect herself, Frost, and Maura. She had to keep them safe, and if that meant Maura hated her forever, well at least she was alive to hate her.

Not that Maura could hate her much more than she already did before that day in that warehouse.

Being hated by Maura, ignored by her, was the most painful thing Jane could imagine.

No. She couldn't even have imagined.

In the dark, late at night, Jane had wondered if Maura's death could even hurt this much.

Seeing the light in Maura's eyes snuffed out, being held at a clinical, professional distance from the once warm, friendly woman… it was a never-ending agony.

Part of Jane felt like she was being buried right there with Doyle, shut away and entombed, never to see the sun again.

Maura hadn't looked at her since she arrived, but Jane couldn't tear her gaze away from the doctor's slender frame. Even in the conservative black dress, Maura was stunning. Her hair pulled back tightly, her make-up showing no signs of the tears Jane knew she'd cried only minutes ago… she was crushingly radiant in her sorrow.

Jane wanted nothing more than to take Maura into her arms, to hold her and caress her and kiss away the sadness in her eyes. To wrap them up in the downy softness of Maura's bed and hide her from the world, from pain, from loss.

When the bagpipes pierced the air with the opening notes of Amazing Grace, Maura finally met Jane's eyes.

Jane nearly doubled over in pain. Even with the distance and the slowly lowering casket of Paddy Doyle between them, the hurt radiated off Maura in palpable waves and hit Jane like a physical blow.

Jane held Maura's eyes until the doctor looked away, watching as the casket reached its final resting place.

The small group of mourners moved slowly away, Maura following them with graceful steps.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Jane noticed ominous clouds on the horizon.

Waiting until Maura was safely inside a black sedan, Jane turned and walked back towards her own car.

Lost in thought, she was startled when a car stopped beside her and the door opened. Her hand went immediately to her sidearm.

Jane didn't take her hand off her weapon, needing the cool metal against her palm as her heart slowed and a woman in her early sixties stepped out.

"Jane?" she asked.

"Who wants to know?" Jane replied warily.

"I'm Patrick's sister," the woman offered by way of greeting. "I have a message for you."

"From who?" Jane asked, equal parts suspicious and surprised.

"From Patrick," the woman said. "He watched you with Maura and he was glad to know you were looking out for her. He would have understood the choice you made- picking Maura's safety over her trust."

It struck Jane then, to have her choice mirrored back at her as the same choice Doyle had made all those years before.

Maura's safety over her trust.

Maura's quality of life over her love.

Maura's well being over the chance to be close to her.

Jane closed her eyes against the nausea welling inside her. She hadn't really eaten since breakfast two days ago and she knew the dry heaves wouldn't hurt nearly as much as just the sight of Maura had.

"He would have thanked you," the woman continued. "For shooting him- for choosing her. I… I'm sorry for your loss."

Jane's brow furrowed at the seemingly incongruous words.

She should have been offering the condolences. Their eyes met and the understanding there forced a choked sob from Jane's throat.

Patrick Doyle might be dead and buried but it was her relationship with Maura that had been snuffed out, ripped away- and this stranger knew it.

The woman squeezed Jane's forearm and Jane turned away, walking briskly back towards her car, hating the tears she couldn't stop from falling.

"Why are you crying?" Maura's even, curious voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

Jane's head whipped up to see Maura standing next to Jane's car.

"Maura," Jane rasped. "I'm sorry."

Instinctively, she reached for her friend.

"Please don't," Maura replied, shying away from Jane's touch.

Jane wiped at the tears on her cheeks absently, almost unable to function with the hint of Maura's perfume wrapping around her.

Jane couldn't believe the way the love and trust she was so used to seeing in Maura's eyes had been wiped away. It had been so natural, so constant.

She hadn't really even had to work for it, in the beginning.

It seemed like Maura just trusted her innately. Like they had some sort of understanding that transcended time and experience.

Jane had felt it too, had found her usual barriers unnecessary when it came to Maura. She hadn't made Maura work for her trust, hadn't made her prove herself worthy.

Without even meaning too, without even realizing, she'd implicitly placed all her trust in Maura.

Now, Maura's eyes perceived a stranger.

Perhaps even a threat.

Jane was reminded that she did still have the capacity to feel.

Pain radiated through her entire body. It was almost crippling. Although its origin was emotional, the pain was absolutely physical.

It overwhelmed her, made her nauseous.

"I can't do this, Maura," Jane growled, trying to use her anger as a shield against her sorrow. "I don't know what you want from me."

"I don't know either," Maura sighed. "We were… and then you shot…" Maura trailed off, unable to voice the events they were both so intimately familiar with from that day in the warehouse.

"I did what I had to in order to protect you," Jane said. She knew she sounded entirely unapologetic. "You heard him, he would have shot me."

Her body was screaming, _flee! Now!_

"You killed my father," Maura's brow furrowed. Her eyes were heavy with accusations. Doubt.

"I'm sorry," Jane offered. "I did what I had to do. I wish it had been different, I really do. I know you hate me and I'm-"

"I don't hate you," Maura whispered.

Jane knew the surprise was clear on her face. She met Maura's eyes.

The truth was there on the surface, in the shimmering hazel depths.

"I don't," Maura repeated, a little louder, a little bolder. "I'm angry and upset and sad, Jane. I'm hurt- I didn't know anything could hurt this badly. But I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"Sure feels that way," Jane sighed. "So what am I supposed to do now? Are you even my friend?"

"Of course," Maura scoffed, but her voice lacked the conviction necessary to be reassuring.

"Ok," Jane said. "Well then…"

Desperate to change the subject, to divert Maura and herself from the dizzying melancholy of the moment, to stop her from walking away, Jane searched for something else to discuss.

She settled for,

"How's Bass doing?"

For a long minute, Maura didn't reply. Jane took the time to study her friend up close. She looked worn, weary. In desperate need of some loving affection, some care and comfort.

Jane wished desperately she were in a position to offer it. The thought of Maura going home alone was almost as viscerally painful as the thought of her finding comfort in the arms of someone else.

"When I first got him," Maura replied, her words seemingly out of the blue, "it was because I was lonely. I needed _life_ in my life. I'm not good with people and I needed something to nurture, to care for, to relate to. Tortoises have a long life span, they're relatively low maintenance, and they respond to you, recognize your scent. I needed Bass. And then I met you."

She choked a bit, tears rolling unheeded down her cheeks.

"I met you and suddenly it seemed like maybe I could relate to people. That I could have real love, friendship, trust. That I wasn't destined to be lonely forever."

Jane wanted to reassure Maura, to swear vehemently that she would be with her forever, but she lacked the certainty she'd possessed at the height of their friendship.

She was no longer certain about many things in life, things she once felt such strong conviction about.

Like that Maura would never leave her.

Or that she could have the happiness that everyone else seemed to find.

"I'm sorry," Jane repeated.

"Are you?" Maura was angry now, and Jane welcomed it. Anger she could handle. "You… you turned my life upside down, Jane. You made me want things I didn't know I could want, and I, frankly Jane, I do hate you for that. I was happy before I met you. I didn't even realize how lonely I was! But you… you made me aware of it! You showed me this family, this love, that I had only ever dreamt of and then you just… took it away. I was used to being alone- I knew how to do that. And now I don't know! I don't know anything. The other day I actually thought to myself that if I had a lower I.Q. I would be able to relate to more people, I'd be able to make friends and I'd be happy. You made me wish I were someone I'm not- you made me want to be anyone but myself. So I take it back, Jane. I do hate you."

It struck Jane then, how much older Maura looked.

She'd done that to her.

Broken her.

"Maura," she rasped. If she thought it would help, she would tear her heart out and hand it across the negligible space between their bodies.

"You made me question everything about myself, Jane," Maura was undeterred. "_Everything._ My goals, my dreams, my sexuality, my happiness, my career, my family. You barged into my life, uninvited, unannounced, and you just… ruined everything! How can I ever be happy now? Now that I know…"

Maura visibly deflated, practically curling in on herself.

"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered. "Did I… say something? Or, or do something maybe? I just don't understand how we, or why we… I thought we were so…"

Jane was struck by how badly she missed touching Maura. A hand on the small of her back. A gentle touch to her arm. The little platonic contact that grounded and bound them.

She missed it like a part of herself.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she swore, her dark eyes welling to the brim. "It's not your fault."

"But there has to be a reason," Maura countered. "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction…"

Jane would have laughed, in any other situation, at Maura quoting science to explain how there must have been a reason their lives had fallen apart.

As it was, she didn't feel much like laughing.

She couldn't offer anything but empty condolences and hollow assurances. Her only option was to flee.

"I should go," Jane suggested, inclining her head towards her car. "Do you need a ride?"

"No," Maura demurred. "Thank you."

Jane nodded.

She slid behind the wheel of her car and watched Maura get into the back seat of a dark sedan.

A small cloud blocked the sun. Jane shivered despite the warm air.

It had been two months since Casey left.

She felt more confused, more lost, than she ever had.

She missed him terribly, in ways she hadn't even considered. And Maura was distant, sterile.

Where only a matter of weeks ago Jane had been contemplating how to have it all, she was again faced with the stark reality of having nothing.

No one.

For the most part, Jane had avoided talking to anyone about falling in love with Maura.

But she needed advice, help.

Normally, she would have turned to Maura or Casey.

They were her life, her foundation.

Neither of them was hers to lean on now.

She released a deep exhalation and allowed a few tears to fall. Unsure what else to do, she dialed Angela's number.

"Janie?" her mother's worried tone greeted her. "How are you?"

"Not good, Ma," she sighed on a ragged breath. It was the first time since Casey's departure that she had admitted it out loud. "Not good."

"Where are you?" her mother's concern grew.

"Paddy's funeral," Jane said. "I just saw Maura."

"How is she?" Angela asked. "Is she eating enough? Sleeping? I'm worried about her."

"Ma," Jane broke Angela's rambling. "I uh, I need to tell you something. Are you sitting down?"

There was a long pause.

"Yes," Angela said. Jane knew she was lying.

Jane wanted to tell her everything, to pour out her heart and have her mother fix everything. She lost her nerve.

"What is it, Jane," her mother pressed eventually. "You're scaring me."

"Ma," Jane breathed, tears choking her.

"You can tell me anything, Jane," her mother encouraged. "You know that. Do you want me to meet you somewhere? I can come there and get you-"

"I'm in love with Maura," Jane blurted raggedly.

For a minute, she wasn't sure Angela heard her.

"Oh, Jane," Angela's soft voice was full of concern and tenderness. "I know."

Jane let that settle over her for a minute, her mind racing, her heart pounding.

_I know._

"You," she cleared her throat. "You _know_?"

"Yes," Angela said quietly. "I've known since the first time you came to dinner and she was all you talked about. That first week you met her. I wondered if you'd ever realize."

"I realized," Jane admitted, a desperate confession. "And I think she knows. So does Casey."

"Jane," Angela soothed. "Why don't you come over? We can talk about it here."

Jane inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

"Ok," she agreed. "I'll be there soon."

She drove to her mother's house in a trance. Outside, she sat in the car and stared at the family home for a minute.

Her father had moved out years ago. Divorce still pending.

His abandonment hurt her, angered her.

But it was the place Jane had grown up, still the place she found comfort and refuge from the world.

She hadn't returned many times since marrying Casey- he had become her refuge, yet the house remained a place she knew could seek aid in times of trouble.

It had been a while since she'd come by, since she'd sought out this comfort.

Inside, the smell of coffee and pastries greeted her. Angela had clearly spent the time between hanging up and Jane's arrival preparing her typical motherly offerings.

When she saw Jane in the doorway she rushed over and enveloped her in a crushing embrace.

Jane allowed it, returned it. She buried her face in her mother's neck and let the love and compassion wash over her.

She realized it had been weeks since anyone had held her.

She missed the connection of another's touch.

"I love you," Angela said clearly, not pulling back. "I love you very, very much. No matter what, you're my daughter and I could not be more proud of you."

Jane felt the tears spill over at her mother's trust, faith, conviction.

Jane did not deserve it.

"I've messed up real bad," she replied, her voice hoarse. "And I don't know how to fix it."

"Come inside," Angela coaxed. "Talk to me."

Angela guided her into the kitchen, perched Jane on a stool at the counter, and returned to her baking.

Jane was taken back to her youth and adolescence, to all the times she'd come home from school with a seemingly unsolvable problem and talked it over as her mother moved seamlessly around in the kitchen.

So Jane began to tell her mother, the events pouring out of her in halting, stilted pieces. She talked about everything- how she felt when she met Maura, the way she felt when the other woman was around, their near misses with intimacy. The conversations they'd had after the warehouse. The brief interaction at the funeral. Her fear that they'd never reconcile, never come back from it all.

She didn't say the words out loud but she knew her love for Maura was beyond evident. She wondered how she'd been able to deny it for so long.

How everyone else had turned such a blind eye to it.

How Maura could pretend not to see it.

"She's in love with you too," Angela suggested.

"I don't know about that," Jane admitted. "But I think she might have been, before it all fell apart." She hung her head in shame, letting the truth of it wash over her.

"Have you talked to Casey about all this?" Angela asked.

"Not really," Jane replied. "I just don't know what to say to him. I don't want to hurt him."

"You don't think your silence hurts him?" Angela pressed.

Jane hated when her mother was right.

"I know," she replied. "But I'm gonna to lose him."

"You might," Angela agreed. "But what will you get in return?"

"Right now?" Jane sighed. "Nothing. Maura and I aren't exactly on good terms."

"She'll forgive you," Angela seemed certain.

"I killed her father," Jane retorted. "She should hate me forever."

"You shot the man who donated sperm," Angela corrected. "Her father is in Paris."

Jane's brow furrowed.

"How do you know where Maura's dad is?"

"She told me," Angela shrugged. "She still tells me things, Jane. Still speaks to me as if nothing between the two of you has changed. I think that's a good sign. If she wanted to hate you forever, to never forgive you, don't you think she'd treat me and Frankie differently?"

"She talks to Frankie?" Jane asked.

"All the time," Angela told her. "You might try talking to her too."

"I don't know what to say," Jane sighed.

"_I'm sorry_, is probably a good place to start," Angela grinned.

"I said that already," Jane groaned.

"Then say it again," Angela's voice was harsher now, but she caught herself, softened. "Say it as many times as it takes. You've never been one to give up so easily."

"You, uh," Jane swallowed her nervousness as best she could. "You're ok with all this?"

"With what?" Angela looked at her in confusion, their eyes meeting.

"Maura's a woman," Jane replied dumbly.

"I'm aware," Angela smiled wryly.

"I mean, she and I," Jane stumbled over the words, nervously scratching the back of her head.

"Let he who's innocent cast the first stone," Angela saved her. "I'm getting divorced, Jane. I'm hardly in a position to preach about Catholic values, if that's what you're afraid of."

Jane looked down in shame.

"I love you," her mother drew her face up with a gentle hand. "You're my daughter and I want you to be happy. If that goes against some old, outdated doctrine then God and I will sort that out when I get to the pearly gates. I'd rather burn in hell than see you unhappy for the rest of my life."

"Ma!" Jane's eyes widened in shock at the blatant blasphemy. But deep down she was relieved.

Angela shrugged, returned to her cooking.

"I'm worried about you Janie," her mother added quietly. "You're not quite yourself these days."

"I know," Jane licked her lips.

She wasn't herself at all.

She was drowning.

Middle of the ocean, no land in sight, too tired to float, drowning.

"Have you thought about," Angela chanced a quick glance at Jane before resuming a forced nonchalance as she stirred something on the stove. "About getting some help?"

Jane cringed.

Was her agony that noticeable?

"Nah," she lied.

She had thought about it.

She just didn't know how to ask for it.

"I really think it might help," Angela turned.

"I'm ok, Ma," Jane interrupted. "Really."

She dug up a smile. She knew it didn't fool her mother but it was the best she could do.

"I love you," Jane added softly. "Thank you. I'm gonna be ok."

Angela looked poised to argue but she simply sighed. They shared another meaningful look.

"I love you too," her mother replied. "Whenever you need me, whatever you need- I'm here for you, Jane. Ok?"

Jane relaxed. At least one person in her life didn't hate her.

"Thanks," she added.

"That's what I'm here for," Angela smiled. "What are you going to do now?"

And there was the million-dollar question.

"Talk to Casey," Jane shrugged. "I need to talk to Casey."

Angela nodded in approval.

"Eat something first," she ordered. "You're skin and bones."

Jane smiled, and the motion felt foreign.

For the first time, she imagined what it might be like to be in love with Maura. To be honestly, openly in love with her.

The guilt and pain of losing Casey still tugged at the back of her mind but she once again acknowledged what she'd known for so long.

This thing with Maura was greater than them.

Casey's words rang in her head.

_You can't help who you love._


	10. Move outside the tangle of fearthinking

The week after the funeral, Jane didn't hear from Maura at all. It was agonizing. It seemed clear that Maura was going to continue pointedly avoiding her. When they did cross paths, Maura called her, _Detective Rizzoli. _Asked how she was doing- but never smiled. Never touched her. Never laughed, or lingered, or looked at her too closely.

She felt like a drone, going through the motions of her life without feeling.

Well, not entirely without feeling.

She still hurt.

Still ached.

She hadn't spoken to Casey yet, and the longer she put it off the more fear built in the pit of her stomach.

But the distance from Maura was making her cowardly. What if she lost Maura _and_ Casey?

What if she ended up with no one?

The phone rang and Jane answered it distractedly, flipping through channels towards the Red Sox game.

"Hello?"

"Jane," Maura sobbed. "I know I'm not supposed to be talking to you right now. I know I said horrible things to you, and I know you're upset but I just…"

Maura's tears strangled her.

"I just need my best friend right now," she heaved a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm so upset and I… I need my best friend. Please. I don't have anyone else to turn to- I don't _want_ anyone else."

"Maura," Jane rasped, clutching the phone almost desperately.

"Please," Maura begged. "I thought I could do this, I thought I was ok- but I'm not. I'm so hurt, Jane, and nothing seems to help."

"It takes time," Jane suggested. "Losing a-"

"It's been days," Maura argued, and Jane could tell she was trying to stem the flow of her tears. "And I hurt just as much as when I saw you. Maybe even worse than then. I can't live like this- how am I supposed to do this?"

Suddenly, Jane didn't think they were talking about Paddy Doyle.

Jane rubbed a hand over her forehead roughly, considered hanging up, considered driving to Maura's home, considered running away and never coming back.

"I don't know, Maura," she breathed. "This is new for me too. I didn't… it's new for me too."

"But you've done this before," Maura suggested. "You've experienced trauma and loss. You must know how to make it better. I don't know how Jane- I've never done this."

"Jesus, Maura," Jane felt the anger creeping in. "Neither have I. I don't know how to make it stop hurting- I wish I did, honestly, because if you feel even a little bit like I do, it's fucking miserable in a way that seems like it will never go away."

"But you're fine," Maura said, her confusion and hurt coming across the line clearly.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me? Jane seethed.

"You look healthy," Maura asserted softly. "You have no trouble talking to me at the precinct or seeing me at a scene. Other than the decrease in frequency and duration of our conversations, it's like nothing has changed for you."

Jane's harsh bark of laughter was mirthless, sharp.

"I feel like you turned me inside out, Maura," she growled. "I'm fucking miserable. My Ma won't leave me alone cause she thinks I'm gonna do something stupid, something crazy, and I dunno- maybe I will. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't stop running it through my mind over and over and over and over again like maybe I'll see something I could have done differently. Maybe if I just run every fuckin' detail over in my head, I'll figure out what the hell I should have done."

"But you said," Maura's tentative voice transmitted across the line. "You said it wasn't anyone's fault."

Had she said that?

She sure as hell didn't remember saying it, and she didn't believe it now.

It was her own fault. All of it.

If she'd been stronger.

Better.

Smarter.

She could have stopped two hearts from breaking.

Three hearts.

Her own should count for something too.

"I think we can be friends someday," Maura whispered, and the honest, unabashed hope in her voice made Jane's eyes water. "Do you think it will take a long time?"

Jane tried to form an answer but Maura's voice stopped her.

"To stop hurting, I mean," she clarified. "When will it stop hurting me to just look at you, to even be near you?"

A shuddering sigh escaped Jane, leaving her drained.

"I don't know, Maura," Jane replied. "I just… I don't know."

"I'm sorry," Maura told her.

"Me too," Jane whispered. "I'm so sorry, Maura."

Jane hung up without waiting for Maura to speak again. It was too much, too difficult.

She thrashed and twisted in the blankets that night, dreaming of blackness and despair.

Jane woke up when her alarm went off and rolled over onto her back in bed. She arranged the pillows behind herself and held her cell phone in a white-knuckled grip.

Casey called, like clockwork, and Jane answered with a sense of almost nauseating dread. She had debated not picking up. Debated avoiding, running.

But she knew what she had to do.

She had to talk to him.

To tell him.

To stop hiding.

So she answered, asked how he was doing. They talked casually for a few minutes before there was a pause and she sensed her chance.

"I need to talk to you," she broached the topic hesitantly.

"Ok," Casey's wariness made her gut clench.

"It's about Maura," Jane admitted softly.

"Is she ok?" Casey's concern was clear.

Jane gritted her teeth. He was a good man.

"She's fine," Jane said. "Well, as good as can be expected I guess."

Casey knew about Jane asking for a new M.E. He knew about Doyle.

"You admit that you're in love with her?" Casey asked softly.

"I uh," Jane felt fear choke her. "It's complicated."

"Of course it's fucking complicated," Casey growled, surprising her. "I asked if you're in love with her."

The line was silent for an interminable moment.

"Yes, I," Jane nearly vomited. "I'm in love with her."

More silence.

Then,

"I know."

There it was again.

_I know_.

Did everyone in the world fucking _know_?

Jane closed her eyes, allowed a few tears to escape.

"I'm so sorry," she exclaimed raggedly. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too," Casey breathed. "And I'm… I miss you, Jane."

Jane sobbed, couldn't help the desperate, needy sound that came tumbling out.

"I miss you too," she replied. "I wish I could… that there was something…"

"It's not your fault," Casey sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Leave me," Jane begged. "Please. Casey, I can't walk away from you."

"You'll have to," he gritted. "I can't do that, Jane. I thought I could do whatever you want but I… I can't leave you. If this is what you want, what you need, you've gotta be strong enough to take it."

"I can't," Jane cried. "I don't know how."

"You love her?" Casey asked, his voice a quagmire of grief and anguish and anger.

"Yes," Jane replied. It wasn't any easier than the first time. "I… I love her."

"Then this is up to you," Casey told her, an undeniable edge to his tone. "I'm not coming home. Not now, anyways."

"What?" Jane felt a fresh wave of tears choke her. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to extend," Casey admitted. "I already put the papers through. I can… I can see about giving you a div… about separating, if you want."

"Casey, no," Jane begged. "Please…"

"You can't have it both ways!" Casey yelled, shocking Jane into silence. "You can't fall in love with her and then expect me to what- stand around and pretend this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me? I love you, Jane. I promised to stay by your side for better or worse. But you can't ask me to keep that promise when you've already broken so many of yours. It's not fair. I was a good husband, wasn't I? I tried to be, I really did. This is more than I can… this is too much. Just let me go."

"I'm sorry," Jane said helplessly. "I'm so, so sorry, Casey. I lov-"

"Don't," Casey cut her off, a low, fierce rage coloring his voice. "Just don't."

Jane cried openly, unable to stop herself.

"I'll get some papers drawn up," Casey's voice was cooler, even. "And mail them to you."

"Ok," Jane said.

"I'll call you," he added. "Goodbye, Jane."

"Ok," Jane repeated.

Casey hung up before she could say anything else.

Tossing the phone aside, Jane dissolved into sorrow. She burrowed into her bed, curling into a ball.

Her whole body hurt, her mind was jumbled, her chest ached.

The sorrow was overwhelming.

The phone rang and she hoped it might be Casey so she reached for it. It was Angela, and Jane answered on a sobbing, ragged breath.

"Jane?" Angela's concern was immediate. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Casey," Jane rasped. "It's over."

"I'm coming over," Angela said. "Are you at home?"

"No please," Jane cried. She was in no mood to deal with other people. She just wanted to curl up in bed and die.

"Jane," her mother sounded helpless. "Please, let me come over."

"I just can't," Jane sobbed. "Please just leave me alone."

"I love you," her mother conceded. "I'm going to call again later to check on you."

"Ok," Jane agreed.

"I love you," Angela repeated. "So much."

"Ok," Jane whispered. "Bye, Ma."

Jane closed her eyes and her head swam. She wondered if it was a mistake to push Angela away.

Now that she had, Jane realized she was desperate for comfort, for warmth, for touch.

When she heard the front door open half an hour later, she was relieved more than annoyed.

Shuffling footsteps made their way to her door and then paused. It was open and she didn't look up.

But then she caught a waft of subtle scent and her heart stopped beating.

She'd know that smell anywhere.

"Jane?" Maura's soft voice reached her ears.

Jane squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

This was a nightmare, a fantasy, an illusion.

If she didn't move, didn't breathe, it would go away.

Stop haunting her.

"Jane," Maura repeated, her footsteps resuming.

Jane sensed her friend at the edge of the bed.

"Please talk to me," Maura coaxed.

"Just go," Jane blurted.

"I don't think I should," Maura replied. "You're still my best friend. I just want to help."

"You can't help," Jane hissed. "This is your fault."

Maura shifted, sitting on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I don't think you mean that. How can I help?"

"By leaving," Jane pleaded. "Just leave me alone."

"I can't do that," Maura responded, an undercurrent of certainty lingering.

"Why?" Jane practically begged.

"Because I love you," Maura said. "And you're hurting. I said I would still be there for you when you really needed me. I want to make you feel better."

And that was what Jane was afraid of.

She didn't deserve to feel better. To have Maura comfort her.

Maura placed a tender hand against Jane's head, lightly stroking through her wild hair.

A shudder wracked Jane's frame. She clenched her teeth against the almost unbearable torrent of emotions that shot through her.

She wanted to roll over and pull Maura into her arms. To burrow into the other woman and never come out.

Maura shifted and before Jane could open her eyes to look, before she could ask what Maura was doing, she was lying pressed up against Jane's back.

Maura wrapped an arm around Jane's torso and nestled up behind her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.

Powerless to stop herself, Jane threaded her fingers through Maura's. Maura clutched her hand tightly.

Jane couldn't stop her body from shaking.

She felt like she was coming apart. Splintering.

It _hurt_.

She'd failed. Screwed up. Ruined her marriage.

Fallen in love with her best friend.

Everyone should hate her, be disgusted with her.

But…

But here Maura was, offering comfort in Jane's time of need.

Here Maura was, wrapping her lithe frame around Jane as if to protect her from the world.

Jane feared even breathing too deeply, lest Maura disappear as a sorrow induced delusion.

They remained immobile for long minutes. Maura's body pressed tightly to Jane's back, her arm cradling, comforting, as well as offering strength, protection.

The dichotomy was stark, striking.

Jane never imagined Maura as her defender, her savior. But it seemed so unbelievably clear in that moment.

Clutching Maura's hand tightly against her abdomen, Jane tried to process every sound, every scent, every sensation.

Maura was here.

In her bed.

Touching her, holding her.

It was too good to be true.

"It's over," Jane whispered, breaking the silence.

Maura tensed against her.

"I'm sorry," she replied evenly.

"Are you?" Jane challenged, surprised. It wasn't the answer she had expected.

"Yes," Maura responded. "It's hurting you, and I hate that."

"I'm not…" Jane hesitated. "I'm not as sorry as I should be."

There was a long silence as they both considered the statement.

"What do you mean?"

"Just what it sounds like," Jane said. "I'm sorry, because I loved my husband. But I'm not… I'm not in love with him anymore."

It was a cowardly confession but she couldn't bring herself to verbalize the full truth of it.

It wasn't just that she wasn't in love with him. It was that she was helplessly, hopelessly in love with Maura.

"I'm sure you can fix things with Casey," Maura finally said.

Jane's heart stopped. Her hand reflexively tightened around Maura's.

As if holding onto her physically could prevent her from falling apart.

"I don't want to fix things," she admitted, realizing the truth of it for herself.

"He's your husband," Maura replied. "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"I don't want him to forgive me. I don't want to be with him," Jane repeated, her voice escalating as anger temporarily displaced her sorrow. "Are you serious right now?"

"Marriage is," Maura paused, her body moving incrementally away from the warm, safe haven of Jane's back. "Breaking up a marriage is a very big deal."

"I know breaking up a marriage is a big deal," Jane rolled away from Maura, standing furiously next to the bed. "But so is staying married to someone you don't love with your whole heart. I thought you of all people would understand."

Maura sat up, her legs dangling over the side of the bed, her back to Jane.

"Jane," Maura placated, turning to look at her.

"Get out," Jane shook her head, tears welling rapidly. "Just go."

"Jane," Maura tried again. "Please just listen to me."

"I don't want to listen to you tell me that I should get back together with Casey," Jane shook her head. "I'm not in love with him. I don't want to be with him. It's not fair to either of us. If you don't want what I want… if you don't love…"

She couldn't even bear to voice the idea.

If Maura didn't love her…

"Just go, Maura."

Maura slowly stood.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me," Jane exhaled raggedly. "To us."

"There is no _us,_" Maura breathed. Her voice was eerily calm. "You're married, you're my friend, we work together. That's all there is to it."

Jane felt a tear escape. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She was disintegrating all over again, in an entirely different way.

She wanted to look at Maura. Wanted to meet her gaze and see the lie she _knew_ must be lurking in those eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to, for fear that Maura was telling the truth.

"Go, _please_," she repeated.

She closed her eyes and kept them sealed until she heard the click of the front door.

Jane didn't sleep a wink that night and found herself out of bed before the sun rose.

With nowhere else to go, and needing desperately to distract herself, she headed to the precinct. After a punishing work-out on the treadmill she showered and set about the paperwork she'd been neglecting.

By the time Frost arrived at nine, Jane had been hard at work for hours. He appraised her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She pointedly avoided looking at him.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," Jane groused. "Just couldn't sleep."

"If you need to talk," Frost let the offer hang.

She did look up then, meeting his gaze and nodding.

No further words were exchanged as they set about their day. By quitting time, Jane was exhausted.

At the elevators, Jane leaned heavily against the wall. She would be home soon and she could fall apart. Less than an hour and she'd be in bed in the dark, disintegrating in private.

She just had to hold it together for a little while longer.

When the elevator arrived with a, _ding_, she moved forward without looking, colliding head-on with Maura.

"Oh!" Maura exclaimed.

"Shit," Jane cursed. "Sorry."

She stepped back to give herself space. It was difficult to think with Maura's warmth and scent pulling at her like a lover's hands, tugging her ever closer and leaving an indelible mark.

"It's fine," Maura replied, smoothing her dress. "Are you alright?"

The look in her eyes made it clear she meant far more than any possible damage from their collision.

"Fine," Jane gritted. "I'll see you later."

She slipped around Maura into the elevator and closed the doors before the other woman could say anything more.

But she didn't miss the look of hurt in her best friend's eyes.

Frost chased after her, stopped her by her car.

"Hey, Jane," he called. "Wait."

She turned, on the verge of disintegration. She just needed to go home. She needed to go home or she might fall apart there on the sidewalk outside the precinct and she'd never recover because the pieces would scatter all over the place and…

"I'm not really-" she began.

"I just think you should know," he interrupted. Jane's gut clenched at the way he avoided her gaze. "She's um, she's seeing someone."

Jane felt the world spin and realized she was clutching her car to keep herself upright. She knew that if she let go she would collapse.

"What?" she croaked, her voice barely audible over the world around them.

"It's been going on for a few weeks," he added. "And I didn't want you to find out… I just wanted you to be aware. So you don't, I don't know, make any rash decisions."

"Rash decisions?" Jane laughed humorlessly. "Like what? Show up at her house naked under my coat? We're not even friends anymore. What she does on her own time is her business. She can fuck whoever she wants."

Even saying it in the hypothetical cut Jane to the quick. She felt tears well behind her eyelids. Her entire body was shaking.

Her vision swam. Her temples throbbed. Her heart pounded.

This must be what a panic attack felt like. Hyperventilating. The world shrinking in around her.

"Is he a," she swallowed harshly. She'd always been a glutton for punishment. "Is he a good guy?"

"It's," Frost looked worryingly apologetic. His voice was a pained whisper. "It's a woman, Jane."


	11. Tell your story to someone

A month passed.

Casey didn't call anymore.

She never saw Maura.

Angela hovered, Frankie hounded her, Frost and Korsak watched her. They all seemed poised to speak, to act, to stop her if she got too close to that ragged edge of despair.

The divorce papers arrived in the mail. Jane signed them, sent them back, spent two days in a black hole of alcohol-fueled desperation.

There was a six-month waiting period. In 182 days, she'd be divorced.

A divorcée.

Single.

Alone.

Jane threw herself into her work. She'd arrive at the precinct hours before anyone else, remain long after the others had returned home. She didn't know what else to do.

Her isolation fueled itself.

She stopped attending family dinners. Stopped playing ball with Frankie. Stopped going to the Robber with the guys.

Once she walked into the bar and saw Maura sitting across a table from an attractive brunette, she crossed it off the list of places she felt comfortable, safe.

Frankie knew she'd seen them together, tried to talk to her about it, but she couldn't face the reality of the situation. She couldn't even honestly say she wanted Maura to be happy- she didn't.

Not if it meant she would be kissing someone else, dating someone else, loving someone else.

Not if it meant Jane was going to be so fucking miserable for the rest of her life.

She didn't want to be forced to admit that out loud though, so she pushed Frankie away instead. He pushed back but she had become dangerously proficient at shutting people out, closing them down, ignoring them.

So he left it alone.

She was immensely grateful. She knew she wouldn't have been able to resist prying, regardless of how badly it would hurt.

And she couldn't spend too much time thinking about Maura kissing another woman, touching another woman. If she did, she wouldn't be able to function.

She barely kept her head above water as it was.

But the idea that Maura had so easily cast her aside, forgotten her, moved on… It was devastating, to say the least.

In fact, devastating didn't even begin to cover it.

Sometimes she thought about confronting Maura. She had just enough anger, enough numbness, to stomach the idea.

She would yell at her, scream at her- she would tell Maura just how fucking angry she was. Maura deserved it.

She had to know how much she was hurting Jane. It made Jane wonder how her friend could be so cruel, so heartless.

It made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, Maura wasn't the woman she thought.

Maybe she'd fallen in love with a fantasy.

An illusion.

That was the most painful idea of all.

Most of the time, she could recognize that for the flawed delusion that it was.

Maura wasn't cruel or heartless. In fact, she was one of the most gentle, compassionate, kind, nurturing people Jane had ever met.

So the only other conclusion to be drawn was that she didn't love Jane. Wasn't in love with her.

Maura clearly liked women, dated women.

But not Jane.

After all, hadn't Maura once told her that she wasn't her type?

It didn't seem so funny now.

Jane was, as Maura had so recently reminded her, her friend and colleague.

And even _friend_ seemed like a stretch.

After Jane saw flowers on Maura's desk when she walked past the office, she sealed off the last brick in the wall she was building.

She couldn't live outside the safety of the fortress she'd erected around herself, around her heart.

The world was just too volatile, too painful.

Most of the time, she felt like an observer in her own life. Everything was happening to her, around her. She was powerless.

It felt like someone had thrown a heavy blanket over her. The weight of it was constant, oppressive, suffocating.

Everything had been dimmed until it was almost unrecognizable.

The familiar ache settled over her until she couldn't remember ever feeling anything else.

Angela pestered her non-stop. Called, dropped by, sent her brothers to check on her. She didn't even bother trying to pretend she was ok- there would have been no point.

No one would have believed her.

The days blended together, summer turning rapidly into fall.

She sank further and further into herself. Tried to find every crack in her armor and seal it up so that this could never happen again.

If only she'd been more on guard. If only she'd kept a closer watch over her heart.

Maybe she could have stopped this.

Avoided it all.

Regardless, it would never happen again.

She'd never hurt like this again.

She wouldn't let anyone do this to her.

Jane Rizzoli was done with trust and love and relationships.

Her heart couldn't survive another break like this.

It was barely beating through this one.

And she hadn't even gotten Maura's heart in return.

She was falling apart over losing something, _someone_, that she never even had.

She didn't get to feel Maura's lips against her own. She didn't get to press their palms together, feel their fingers intertwined. She didn't get to undress Maura, see her laid bare. She didn't get to fall asleep beside her or wake up wrapped around her.

She had given up her life, her love, her heart… for nothing.

Never again.

Never.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

In early September, Frost pulled her aside.

"I drew the short straw," he began. "So don't shoot the messenger. We all talked about it, and we think you should consider seeing someone."

Rage, a familiar friend, colored Jane's vision.

Anger she could feel.

Anger she could recognize.

It fluttered against that heavy, oppressive feeling and reminded her that she still existed. Was still alive.

They'd talked about it? Was she some kind of fucking project? And see someone? They wanted her to go on a date! What the fuck was wrong with them?

She opened her mouth to rip Frost a new one but he put a gentle hand on her arm.

"I know you don't like therapists," he said. "But we're worried about you. A lot of changes have happened in your life and your family- well, we can't stand this anymore. You have to get help, Jane."

He held out a business card.

"He's real good," Frost added. "When I was working through some things with my dad, he helped a lot. And he's not associated with the department, so you don't have to worry about anyone knowing."

Jane's brow furrowed. She met Frost's soft, understanding gaze.

She found herself on the verge of tears.

"Call," he encouraged softly. "If not for you, then for us. We miss you, Jane. We want you back. We love you and we want you to be happy."

He put his arms around her briefly and Jane clung to him for dear life. The contact was searing- it had been so long since she'd allowed herself to reach out to someone. Since she had let someone_ see_ her.

"Ok," she choked out. "Thanks."

Knowing when to back off, Frost simply smiled.

"You're welcome," he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Before she lost her nerve or changed her mind or talked herself out of it, Jane dialed the number on the card.

Frost's words whispered through her head over and over and over.

_We miss you._

A woman answered.

_We miss you._

"Uh, hi," Jane murmured. "I guess I uh, need to make an appointment."

She took the first available opening and hung up, her palms sweating, her heart pounding.

_We miss you._

Something inside her opened a bit. All those cracked fragments of her heart that she'd so sloppily glued back together had been blocking the light inside her. Now, a ray peeked through.

It barely registered through the shroud of melancholy and anguish, but she was sure she could feel it, _something_ was in there.

Maybe she'd live through this after all.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

The office of Dr. Ashleigh was simple, neutral. It made Jane feel calmer and more nervous all at once.

She wasn't entirely sure why she'd come.

She had survived much more traumatic events without the assistance of a licensed therapist. Being shot, stabbed, hunted, stalked, shooting herself, seeing her family members bleed…

Yet Frost's words…

_We miss you_.

She hadn't really gone anywhere. But deep down she admitted that she had given up. Abandoned her friends… and herself.

A life without Maura just seemed empty. Hollow. Useless.

If she were ever going to resolve this, she'd need professional help.

Dr. Ashleigh was a greying, blonde man with piercingly blue eyes and a kind face. He had a hint of an accent- Minnesota maybe. He seemed innately comfortable with himself, with the space around him, with the world. He was imposing but nonthreatening. Jane could see why Frost liked him.

"Hello," he rose to shake her hand. Jane accepted, measuring him silently.

"Hi," she replied. "I'm not too sure why I'm here."

"That's ok," he smiled softly. "You're here. That's a big step. We'll take that as a win and go from there."

Jane nodded, accepted the seat he indicated with an outstretched hand.

"You can call me Allen if you're comfortable with that," he offered.

"Ok," Jane nodded, shifting nervously. She wasn't comfortable with any of this. "So what now?"

"Have you been to therapy before?" Allen asked.

"Only mandatory therapy for work," she responded. Adding dryly, "for _traumatic incidents_."

"What do you do for a living?" he pressed easily.

"I'm a detective," Jane couldn't help the bit of pride that leaked into her tone. "With BPD."

"Alright," he nodded. "Why are you here today?"

Jane looked at him, at the casual set of his features, at the modestly appointed office. She thought about the complete chaos of her life. About how she hadn't been grocery shopping since Paddy's funeral. How worried her family was. How she'd stopped working out. How she couldn't fall asleep at night. How concerned her friends were. How she couldn't picture herself existing a year from now. How she seemed to feel nothing at all these days.

How her life had completely fallen apart.

"Well," she took a deep breath. This was it. It was now or never. This or nothing. "I was married. And then I fell in love. With a, uh, with a woman- my best friend."

She glanced over at Dr. Ashleigh, expecting some reaction to her burdensome admission. He simply looked back at her, a calm, easy patience in his expression.

"That must have been incredibly difficult," he suggested eventually. No judgment. No condemnation. Barely a hint of kind curiosity.

That was all it took.

It poured out of Jane in halted, incoherent fragments.

She re-experienced everything in that hour, the rage and sorrow overtaking her. There was so much to sort through. Too much. Things were jumbled, out of order, out of context, out of control.

The wreckage of her life was the emotional equivalent of an earthquake site. The basic structure had been shaken, shattered, nearly demolished. Parts would never be the same- could never be repaired. Many things had been buried in rubble, possibly broken or lost.

But there were many things that could potentially be dug out and resurrected. Fixed. Salvaged.

Saved.

Dr. Ashleigh suggested meeting weekly until she figured things out.

Jane didn't hesitate to agree.

Their weekly sessions became her only refuge. Her only solace.

In the taupe office, on the chestnut couch, she divulged things she'd never told anyone. Not Maura, not Casey, not her mother or Frankie or Frost or Tommy.

She talked about her childhood. Her adolescence. Her sexuality. Trust. Love. Hope. Forgiveness. Sorrow. Anger.

It was difficult. It hurt.

She wanted to stop.

More than once she called to cancel only to find herself unable, unwilling, to quit.

This was her life.

She'd done enough hiding, enough running.

There was nowhere else to go.

So she went back.

Week after week.

_Baby steps_, Dr. Ashleigh encouraged.

She went home at a reasonable hour.

She worked out.

She accepted invitations to the Robber.

She went to family dinner.

She talked.

To Angela. To Frankie. To Frost. To Korsak. To Tommy.

She still ached. Still hurt. Was still so, so angry.

But it was something- going through the motions. She was proud of it, of herself.

She thought… deep down, she thought Maura would be proud too.

Fall decayed into winter.

She could feel herself opening up. Things were shifting inside her. She could imagine, sometime in the not so distant future, smiling and actually meaning it.

It occurred to her that she wasn't going back to being the Jane of a year ago either. She was moving forwards. She was becoming someone else.

Still herself, only… _more _herself.

More open and understanding and free.

The loss and pain of what she had been through had stripped her down, left her bare.

Now she was rebuilding, and it gave her the opportunity to become the best possible version of herself.

When the holidays loomed, she found herself actually looking forward to them. To time off with her family. To reconnecting. To relaxing.

To love and togetherness and joy.

She might not be feeling everything yet, but on some level she could still appreciate those things. Could still assign great weight to their role in her life.

Could still give thanks.

The Monday before Thanksgiving, Angela approached Jane after work.

Jane was immediately suspicious. The look on Angela's face meant she was about to sucker Jane into something, to guilt her into agreeing to something she wouldn't like.

"Out with it," Jane softened the demand with the upward tilt of her lips.

Angela registered surprise, and then the slightest bit of hesitance.

"It's nothing big," her mother began. "I was just thinking… Well, we're doing Thanksgiving at the house, and it's going to be so nice. And Korsak and Frost are coming- Frost is even bringing that lovely girl he's seeing. All our friends and family will be there and I…"

Jane narrowed her eyes.

"What, Ma?" she asked. "You want me to cook an extra turkey or something?"

"I invited Maura," her mother blurted.

Jane's heart immediately pounded a mile a minute. Her hands clenched. Blood rushed in her ears.

She tried to call on the anxiety reducing techniques she'd practiced with Dr. Ashleigh but it wasn't so easy now, standing outside the precinct instead of in the familiar cocoon of his office.

"You," she panted. When had she started breathing again?

"I'm sorry," Angela grabbed Jane's bicep. Secretly, Jane was grateful for the contact- it grounded her. "I was talking to her and she said she was going to spend the day alone and I just couldn't let that happen. There will be so many other people there, Jane. You won't even have to talk to her if you don't want to-"

"I don't think I can do this," Jane admitted raggedly. Dr. Ashleigh had spoken at length about limits. About honesty. About truth. About vulnerability.

"Janie," her mother tried.

"Ma," Jane was having none of it. "You invited… the woman I fell in love with- ended a marriage for, ruined my life over! Who won't even talk to me now! You invited her to dinner like it's nothing."

"I love you," her mother's voice was surprisingly stern. "I do. I'm your mother and your health and happiness come first for me. You've been… struggling, lately. I'm so glad you've decided to get help. But I also love Maura, Jane. When you two were friends, she and I developed a relationship. So did she and Frankie. And she and Frost, and Korsak, and Tommy. We haven't turned our backs on her completely, but for your sake all of us have… pulled away, somewhat. I realize now that it was wrong of us to do that."

"Ma," Jane was practically begging. She thought she might cry. "Please…"

"She was your best friend," Angela replied. "Before you were in love with her, you loved her. We all did. We _do._ I know it must be difficult for you to see her-"

"I don't see her," Jane interrupted. "We don't talk. We're not friends. I broke up a marriage and she abandoned me."

"Did it occur to you that maybe this has been hard on her as well?" Angela suggested curiously, her voice cutting. "That maybe she didn't want it to work out this way? She loves you, Jane. You're not the only one who was, who _is,_ hurting. But unlike you, she doesn't have a bunch of people to catch her when she falls. Or rather, she didn't. Like it or not, you brought her into this family and the Rizzoli's have done many things I'm not proud of but turning our back on one of our own will not be one of them."

"I can't see her," Jane rasped. Even the idea of being in the same room as Maura, making small-talk, grazing her hand as she passed the turkey… Jane's whole body reacted violently.

"I hope you change your mind," Angela replied softly. "Dinner is at five. You're welcome to come earlier and help prepare. I love you."

Angela pressed a quick kiss to Jane's cheek. Jane didn't move, didn't respond. She couldn't.

For better or worse, she could be seeing Maura in less than 72 hours.

_Fuck._


	12. Every morning a new arrival

Thanksgiving arrived, just like any other morning.

Jane was awake at dawn, lying idly in her bed. Debating not getting up.

She had left the window open overnight and the room was cool.

The air was crisp, clean. There was nothing to signify the importance of the day. To mark the monumental occasion.

Her heart raced. Her palms were sweating. Even lying in bed just thinking about the day to come sent her into a physical and emotional tailspin.

She would see Maura today.

For the first time in weeks.

Not just walk past her in the hallway or see her across a crime scene or glance at her through the windows of the morgue… They would be in the same space, breathing the same air, sharing the same meal.

Part of her wondered if the M.E. was different up close. Did she look the same? Smell the same? Talk the same? Laugh the same?

What would she wear?

Would she be awkward? Talkative? Silent?

Would she bring a date? That brunette from the Robber? The blonde from her bathtub?

Jane was resolved to be casual, distant. If Maura didn't want her, then Jane was determined not to want Maura.

But as she rolled out of bed and surveyed her closet, she admitted that she _wanted_ Maura to want her. So, so badly.

Because she still wanted Maura.

Wanted to be her friend, her partner, her love.

She wanted to be the person that Maura referred to as the _love of her life_.

The person Maura came home to at the end of the day, slept next to at night, relied on in good times and bad.

The one who made her smile, made her laugh, held her when she cried and made the people who made her cry pay dearly.

The one who married her, started a family with her, laid claim to their own little slice of land and turned it into fucking paradise.

She could live in a cardboard box in Calcutta for all she cared- if Maura was there, it would be home.

Therapy was helping her come to terms with that. To the fact that she could be angry and resentful about the way things had turned out but still be madly in love with Maura. That she had to learn to reconcile those feelings if she were ever going to reconcile with the other woman.

Jane put extra attention into her outfit, blew her hair dry, applied a touch of make-up. When she arrived at the family home in dark jeans and a cashmere, ruby sweater with a six-pack in hand, she felt composed.

A little bit completely fucking discombobulated.

But composed.

She could do this.

She was ready.

Dinner with family and friends. Nothing more. Just like every Thanksgiving before it. She'd play a little touch football with the guys, eat a little too much turkey, drink a little bit too much beer, take a nap, and then head home late tonight with an armful of leftovers.

Casey's absence struck her starkly as she waited on the doorstep.

For some inexplicable reason, she always felt compelled to ring the doorbell and wait outside on holidays. Like she was being invited as a guest into a sanctuary no longer belonging to her.

The door swung open, emitting the clamorous noise of a Rizzoli family holiday and the enticing scents that accompanied it.

And a laughing, flushed Maura Isles greeted her.

"Hell-" Maura's greeting died in her throat.

Jane couldn't seem to formulate a coherent thought. Her mind kept screaming, _run!_ Or _kiss her!_

She was wearing a navy blue sheath dress with a scooping neck. Her pearl earrings peeked out through waves of her hair, matched the string of pearls around her throat. Her ivory pumps put her eye to eye with Jane.

Maura's gaze softened, darkened with fear and something else Jane couldn't recognize before it was gone. She licked her lips, and Jane's stomach clenched painfully.

She'd forgotten just how fucking gorgeous Maura was when she smiled.

When she smiled, Maura's eyes lit up and her dimples showed and Jane's heart pounded. Raced.

Maura's smile faltered, slipped.

The silence between them grew, lingered.

Jane wanted to talk.

Even just say, _hello._ Something.

Her body was betraying her though, and she couldn't seem to make her lips and tongue cooperate.

There was the tiniest smudge on Maura's cheek- flour or sugar or some other remnant of the sure to be chaotic kitchen.

Jane wasn't aware of her making the decision to move but she saw her trembling hand reach up and brush the spot tenderly, a fleeting touch she wouldn't have thought real but for the smudge disappearing. Her hand fell back by her hip and she felt as if she'd been burnt.

Hoyt's scalpel hadn't damaged her this much.

Maura's lips parted, her chest heaving as she tried desperately to breathe.

Jane felt like all the air was slowly being sucked out of the atmosphere. She couldn't speak, couldn't move.

A violent tempest of emotions swirled through her, traveled up her throat and lodged in her mouth, heavy on her tongue.

A million things threatened to spill out at once if only she could part her lips. If only she could free the wild, caged things that were fighting inside her to be freed. If only she could move, could pull Maura into the crushing embrace she was desperate to feel.

If only.

_If only._

Frankie appeared, saving her. His head popped out from behind Maura and she stepped aside as he took the beer from Jane's unsteady hand.

"Hey, Janie," he greeted, pulling Jane inside and into a brief embrace. "Happy Turkey Day."

"Happy Thanksgiving," Jane rasped, swallowing thickly. Her eyes remained fixed on Maura's. Eventually, Angela called Maura back into the kitchen. Jane's eyes tracked her retreating form.

This was going to be a lot harder than she'd anticipated.

A multitude of voices and faces pierced Jane's consciousness. Movement, light, sound, smells.

She was vaguely aware of moving further into the house. Of saying hello to the other family members and friends who were helping prepare the meal.

But she was in a hazy fog of Maura-centered awareness. Everything else was somehow distant and remote. Her eyes stayed glued to Maura long after they had left the entryway.

Thankfully, the feverish movement of her mother, brothers, and friends as they prepared the meal began to distract her. Frost's girlfriend asserted that Budweiser was a craft beer. Korsak made an outlandish statement about the Celtics. Frankie bragged about the one time he beat Jane at basketball when he was seven.

She could tell they were _trying _to distract her. Give her something else to think about, to focus on.

Drinks were poured. Dishes were secretly sampled. The table was set.

Jane talked, laughed, drank.

Her body obeyed. Allowed it.

But her mind was fighting her tooth and nail, and her heart weighed in heavily against her free-will.

All she really wanted to do was press Maura up against the nearest surface and kiss her until she agreed to love her back. To take the other woman somewhere quiet and whisper soft assurances against her skin. To wrap her arms around Maura's waist and refuse to let go.

She had this annoying mindfulness of Maura. Her body was attuned to the other woman's every move, every breath, every word and it was utterly distracting.

Maura was giving her a wide berth in a painfully obvious way. She didn't meet Jane's gaze. Didn't stand near her. Sat at the opposite end of the table but on the same side so they wouldn't accidentally catch each other's eyes.

It made the meal more tolerable, and far more tortuous.

When the dishes were cleared and they began to prepare for coffee and dessert, Jane had suffered enough. She wanted to go home, to curl up and sleep for days.

She'd done more pretending, more going through the motions, today than in the last months combined and it was wearing on her.

Breaking her down.

She'd made a lot of progress with Dr. Ashleigh, with her outlook on life, with her feelings and thoughts. But this was a big day and it was taking its toll.

She was about to round the corner into the kitchen when she heard her mother saying something.

Then she heard Maura mention a date and her entire body zeroed in on her voice. Jane thought her heart had even stopped pounding just so she wouldn't miss a word. She stayed hidden in the shadows, plastering herself to the wall.

"It was nice," Maura sighed. "We don't seem to have compatible pheromone patterns."

Jane's mind instantly translated from Googlemouth to laymen's terms- no chemistry. Jane realized she found it endlessly endearing that Maura was actually referring to scientific interactions when she spoke of romantic chemistry, and cursed her weakness.

"Are you going to see her again?" Angela asked.

_Her_.

The word fluttered around Jane's head like an anxious bee, buzzing in her head until it was difficult to focus on anything else.

"I doubt it," Maura replied. "She was lovely but she wasn't what I'm looking for."

_It's me._

_Me!_

Jane wanted to barge into the room and ask a million prying, pressing questions. She wanted to insist that _she_ was what Maura was looking for.

She wanted to yell. To scream. How dare her mother encourage Maura to date? How dare Maura confide in her mother?

Maura had fucking abandoned her and now she was here in Jane's safe place making her feel decidedly unsafe.

Volatile.

"Well," Angela breathed. "I'm sure you'll find it eventually."

Jane barged into the room.

"I need to speak to you," she gritted, forcibly dragging Maura out of the room and down the hall to the guest bedroom.

"Jane," Maura protested, her voice colored with surprise. She made a resentful noise of disapproval as Jane nearly threw her into the room.

"Hold on," Jane barked.

Maura's indignant noise died when Jane roughly released her, casting her precariously into the room. Maura wobbled momentarily on her heels and Jane resisted the urge to reach out and steady her. Instead, she slammed the door behind them.

"Jane," Maura began, righting herself.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Jane demanded. She could still feel the heat of Maura's skin against her fingers. Could smell her delicate perfume.

Something rich and oaky, like wine and dark chocolate and handcrafted sailboats.

She realized that touching the other woman had been a mistake. It was making her body go completely haywire.

"Trying to have a nice Thanksgiving," Maura whispered, puzzled. Her brow furrowed, creasing at the bridge of her nose.

Jane wanted to kiss that divot, smooth those lines with her lips.

"I mean," Jane gritted. "Why are you _here_? Are you trying to make me miserable? I was _just_ starting to feel better…"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Maura herself sounded hurt. Her voice was soft, apologetic. "I wouldn't do that to you. Angela said she spoke to you… she said it was alright if I came. That you wouldn't mind. If I'd known you didn't want me here…"

Jane closed her eyes. Counted to ten.

Exhaled harshly.

It didn't really help.

"It's not that I don't want you here," she rumbled. "I do. You're…" She laughed mirthlessly, unsure how to explain.

Seeing Maura was phenomenal.

But it hurt so fucking badly.

"I want to be your friend," Maura offered. "I miss you."

"I don't want to be your friend," Jane rasped, her voice smoky and thick with anguish. "I don't know why, I don't know what it is about you. But you're just so… so fucking _you_. And I can't stop thinking about you and I just… I can't even be near you without… it's too… Anything less than _yes_ is _no_, Maura."

"I'm not sure I understand," Maura sighed, clearly disheartened. Like she knew she should understand but she just didn't, _couldn't_.

"I've been going to therapy," Jane admitted.

Maura's eyes widened, flying to Jane's.

"By choice?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah," Jane nodded, unashamed. "I needed help figuring things out. I needed help sorting through all the things I was feeling. You were right, Maura, when you told me I wasn't being fair to you. But you were wrong too- you've never been my second choice. That was part of what was so hard for me. Deep down I knew that. I knew I'd choose you over anyone else."

"Jane," Maura implored, stepping forward. She stopped, surprised, as if she hadn't even intended to move.

"And now there is this hole in me, in my heart," Jane continued unheeded. "And the shape is unique to you. Maybe someone else can come into my life and fill that space but it will never be a perfect fit. I'll always be a little empty, a little hollow, as long as I don't have you."

She sighed, raking her hand through her hair.

"I dunno," she added softly. "I just thought you felt the same way. I realize now that I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Jane, you're-" Maura began.

"Don't," Jane shook her head. "I don't want anything from you. You made yourself clear. You're dating and you're moving on and that's great. It is. And maybe someday we _can_ be friends. But not today. So I'm going to go home now and I'm going to count this as a win. Because I saw you, I talked to you, I existed in the same space as you and I survived it. It was fucking _terrible_, but I lived. And that's something."

"Jane, please," Maura tried again, reaching for her.

Jane evaded the touch then turned, pausing in the doorway.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Maura," she breathed, bolting down the hallway towards the safety of the well-populated kitchen.

Pulling Frankie aside, Jane told him she needed to forgo dessert. He glanced surreptitiously at Maura as she passed through into the living room but nodded and didn't pry further.

When Maura went to the bathroom, Jane sensed her chance to escape without having to face her again. Saying her goodbyes, Jane shrugged into her coat and wrapped her scarf around her neck.

The chill in the air had deepened during dinner, and she could feel the cold reality of winter nipping at her heels.

Unlocking her car, she looked up when the front door opened.

Maura walked out hesitantly, a bag in her hand.

Jane froze, despite the overwhelming urge to slide behind the wheel and disappear without a word.

"I didn't want you to miss dessert just because of me," Maura breathed, holding out the bag. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Thanks," Jane shifted nervously.

"I'm sorry being around me is so terrible," Maura whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as a whipping wind bit at them. "I wish I could fix it. I wish I could take back-"

"But we can't," Jane interrupted. "We can't change what happened or take things back or wish them away. It is what it is. I never thought I'd get divorced- I did. I would have bet my _life_ that nothing could change our relationship- it did. I don't even blame you, on some level. You're as much a victim in all this as anyone. But you… you ran, Maura. You abandoned me."

"You said we couldn't be friends," Maura exclaimed. "I was just trying to find someone else I could count on."

"I don't want to be your fucking friend!" Jane exploded. "Don't you get that? It's not enough for me. It's not enough, Maura! You're… I can't be around you and pretend like I don't feel… _everything_, for you. I can't do that. I _won't._ I thought I could, I tried- it tore me apart. I'd rather have some distance, be able to get over you, than live in the limbo hell of having you so close and so fucking out of my reach for the rest of my life."

A few tears escaped Maura's eyes but she didn't brush them away. Jane realized Maura wasn't wearing a coat, that she was shivering violently.

But it wasn't her place to comfort her, to soothe her, to help. Maura had made her choice.

Jane didn't have to like it but she was trying to respect it.

"I just needed _someone_," Maura offered on a quiet sob. "You made me need people, Jane. I was so used to being alone and then you took that from me. So I had to find someone else to make me feel whole-"

"Have you found that?" Jane rumbled, fear instantly making her regret it.

What if Maura _had_ found that? Jane would never survive it.

"No," Maura whispered. "Not even close. But I have to look- I need someone, Jane. I don't have a family like you do. Or at least, I didn't before... Today I felt like I got a little of that back."

"I want you to have this," Jane gestured vaguely at the house. "I want you to have love and a family, and I'm glad you've got them. They love you, Maura. You're smart and funny and kind and I… someday I hope I can be your friend. But that's a long way off."

"I love you," Maura breathed, reaching out a hand.

"That's not fair," Jane bit harshly, shying away from the touch. "You don't get to say that. Not when you know how I feel. Love is not a bargaining chip. You can't just say that and think it will make me… I don't know… give in."

"That's not what I," Maura began. "I just thought you'd go back to Casey and we could be friends again, maybe work together again someday. We could go to dinner and get drinks and go to yoga and have movie nights and you'd fall asleep in my guest room and I'd sleep better just knowing you were so close."

Jane closed her eyes, gritted her teeth.

This is what she'd been afraid of. A broken, imploring Maura was almost more than she could handle.

"When you look at me," Jane steeled herself. Dr. Ashleigh encouraged her to seek out the bare truth. To admit the hard facts. Even when it hurt. "What do you see?"

Maura's gaze softened, her lip trembled.

"I see my best friend," she replied.

Jane held back the tears as best she could. She wasn't entirely successful.

"When I look at you," she responded. "I see the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Until I figure out how to see what you see, I can't look at you. It's too hard. Can you understand that?"

Maura was gazing at her with wide, tumultuous eyes. She leaned forwards. Every self-preservation instinct in Jane kicked in and she grabbed Maura's shoulder to hold her at bay.

She knew her grip was far too forceful for the situation but she was panicking.

"Don't," she barked.

Maura looked startled, like she'd been broken out of a trance.

"Jane," she breathed.

"I have to go," Jane stammered, practically throwing herself into the car and slamming the door. She backed out of the driveway rapidly, surprised her tires didn't screech.

Fuck.

There went weeks of progress in therapy.

Dr. Ashleigh disagreed.

He admitted to being immensely proud of Jane when she recounted the day to him at her next session.

"You were honest with her," he smiled softly. "In a difficult way. When we have strong emotions for someone, it can be challenging to be completely truthful with them. But unless we're completely truthful, we can't expect them to have an open dialogue with us in return. That was a good start I think."

"A start?" Jane hedged. "You mean an _end._ I don't want to talk to her again."

"You don't?" Dr. Ashleigh replied evenly.

"I just want to put it all behind me," Jane sighed, knowing it was a lie. Knowing Dr. Ashleigh could see right through it.

"You know that's not how it works," he smiled.

"It would be a hell of a lot easier if it were," Jane retorted. "And I wouldn't need you."

Dr. Ashleigh laughed.

"No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "But here we are. You've laid some of your cards on the table. You've made yourself vulnerable. Now you need to determine what you're looking for from this point forwards. Do you want to be her friend again?"

"I don't know," Jane admitted. "Being her friend was… amazing. She _gets _me, you know? She understood me in a way that no one else ever had, a way that no one else ever will. Looking back, it was impossible not to fall in love with her- she got under my skin the second we met. I never even had a chance."

"And yet you struggled so hard to deny it," Dr. Ashleigh prompted softly.

"I took vows," Jane shrugged. "I made promises. I owed it to Casey to resist. I should have done a better job."

"But you didn't," Dr. Ashleigh suggested. "So here you are. You're single. Your best friend is out of the picture. What now? Are you going to pine for her forever?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Jane snorted. "Date?"

He looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed. "Who the hell am I supposed to date?"

"Whomever you want," he shrugged. "Perhaps a woman. Explore your new sexual identity."

"What the hell is my new sexual identity anyways?" Jane huffed in exasperation.

"Open to love," Dr. Ashleigh replied. "Regardless of the gender."

"Oh," Jane deflated somewhat. "I guess that's… that's pretty accurate. Thing is though, I um, I'm not really _over_ Maura. I'm not sure I'll ever be."

"That's ok," he smiled encouragingly. "You don't have to go out and fall in love. But you might consider a date. Just one- a drink, even. You have to start somewhere. And whether you and Maura find your way back to each other or not, you deserve happiness and pleasure and love."

"Yeah," Jane swallowed. "I do. It's just… I broke up my marriage to be with her. But also because it was the right thing to do when I realized that what I felt for Casey wasn't being _in_ love."

It wasn't quite so hard to admit anymore.

"Would you have gotten a divorce if you hadn't fallen in love with Maura?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jane sighed. "Maybe eventually I would have realized that Casey and I were no longer in love, but to be honest I can't imagine a version of my life where I _don't_ fall in love with Maura. She's a part of me now, of my life and my history and… a version of my life without that, without _her_, would be empty."

"You'd rather be where you are now than never have met her?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

"Yeah," Jane didn't hesitate. "I'm the best possible version of myself now. I'm more _me_ than I've ever been. And meeting her, knowing her… I'm ok with it."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Ashleigh nodded, satisfied. "Anything else before we call it a day?"

"Actually," Jane licked her lips. "Yeah. You said you thought it was good that I laid _some_ of my cards on the table. You don't think I laid them all out there?"

"Do _you _think you put all your cards on the table?" he echoed back.

Jane groaned.

"This is why I hate therapy," she rolled her eyes. "All the damn rhetorical questions."

Dr. Ashleigh was undeterred. He didn't respond.

"Ok, fine," she shifted in her seat. "Maybe not _all_ my cards."

"Why did you hold back?" he asked.

Jane exhaled softly, gazed absently out the window. She traced the scar on her right palm.

Thought about that smile Maura had given her when she opened the door on Thanksgiving. About the way her skin felt. About her laughter. About the almost crushing optimism Jane had experienced when Maura had followed her to the car.

"It gives me hope," she admitted finally, exhaling harshly.

Dr. Ashleigh furrowed his brow slightly, waiting.

"If I put it _all_ out there," Jane hesitated, worried about voicing such a fragile truth. "If I tell her everything- that I'm still in love with her, that I'd give anything to be with her, that I can't imagine my life without her… if I tell her all that and she still pushes me away, then I'll have nothing."

Dr. Ashleigh nodded knowingly. His voice was gentle but pointed.

"And what do you have now?"


	13. Where there is ruin, there is hope

Casey called out of the blue. His voice surprised Jane.

"Hey," she soothed. "How are you?"

"I'm coming home soon," he sounded exhausted. "I got a one bedroom near Fenway. I wanted to know if you'd pack up some of my things for me."

Jane's chest constricted.

Their divorce would soon be finalized but the reality of it hadn't quite hit her. She still felt like he was just deployed, like any day now he'd walk back into her life and make things right. Packing up his stuff, emptying half of her home…

It made it oh, so real.

"Of course," she replied. "Anything you want."

"Thanks," he responded. "Are you… everything going ok?"

"Yeah," Jane lied. He didn't belong to her anymore. She had to bear her own burdens now. "I'm good."

"Are you uh," he swallowed loud enough for her to hear across thousands of miles. "With her?"

_With her?_

Jane wanted to laugh. She wasn't even talking to her.

"No," Jane admitted. "No, it's… it's just me."

There was a pregnant pause. Jane wondered for a moment whether they'd been disconnected.

"Did you tell her?" his surprise was evident. Total incredulity.

"Yeah," Jane rasped. "I told her."

"And she," his disbelief stung, reminded her that everyone else had seen this thing working out and somehow she'd let it fail. "She didn't… you aren't…"

"It's just me," Jane repeated uselessly. She didn't know how to explain, and she didn't want to hurt him by trying. "But hey, I've figured a lot of things out. I've, uh, been going to therapy."

"You have?" Casey asked. More surprise in his voice.

"I have," Jane confirmed. "And I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I know that what happened wasn't entirely within my control, but I'm responsible for my actions. And I'm sorry that my actions hurt you. You're a good man and you were a wonderful husband and a great friend and I wish I hadn't hurt you. I understand if you need time but I'd like to have your forgiveness someday. I'd like to earn it."

Silence loomed again.

"That," Casey sounded distinctly emotional. Choked up. "That means a lot to me, Jane. I want you in my life. You're still important to me."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I want you in my life too-"

"I'm sorry," Casey interjected. "I know this probably isn't my place, and I can't even believe I'm about to say this but… you told Maura you're in love with her and nothing happened? How can that be?"

"I don't know," Jane admitted.

"You said," he tried again. Utter disbelief. "You said, _Maura I'm in love with you_. And she didn't immediately return the sentiment?"

"She said she didn't want to break up our marriage," Jane replied. "That she wanted to be my friend."

"She's a fool," Casey laughed darkly. "A complete idiot. I'm sorry."

"I'm learning to live with it," Jane said. And she was. Sort of.

"Well that makes two of us," he said softly.

Casey briefly outlined the things he wanted to take with him. Jane wrote it all down, knowing she'd bend over backwards to give him whatever he wanted.

He deserved that, at the very least.

His brown leather armchair was conspicuously absent from the list.

When he wrapped up, she hesitated.

"And the chair?" she finally prompted.

"You always liked that chair," he trailed off.

Jane imagined he was shrugging nonchalantly.

It made her heart ache.

"It's your favorite," she stammered.

"I want you to have it," he replied. "For old time's sake." He paused, Jane's heart pausing as well. "But there's one condition."

"Anything," Jane swore.

"You try again with Maura," Casey breathed. For a minute, Jane wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

"What?" she stuttered.

"Look," Casey sighed. "I know this is weird, and it's not my business. But you were my friend for years, and I still care about you. I want you to be happy. And to be completely honest I don't want my total fucking misery to be a waste. So you can keep the chair, Jane. But you have to try one more time with Maura. You have to look her in the eye, tell her you're in love with her, and give her a chance to respond."

Jane felt her heart race. Luckily, Casey gave her an out.

"Or you can pack up the chair with the rest of my stuff," he suggested softly. "It's up to you."

"I'll," Jane hesitated. "I'll have your stuff sent over."

Casey let her avoid. Months ago, years ago, he wouldn't have let something like that slide. They ended the conversation and Jane immediately set about organizing his things.

She diligently packed his possessions into immaculately labeled boxes. She bubble-wrapped and planned and arranged.

Tried to ignore the way it felt like losing half the possessions in her house meant losing her entire _home_.

She relapsed a bit, sleeping less and crying more, but she tried not to get too mired down. She still had a lot of work to do on her life, on herself, and she refused to fail now.

She had come too far to give up.

The night before the movers were set to come, she sat on the floor in front of the leather chair and tried to breathe deeply.

To think clearly.

Voices floated in and out of her head, clouding her mind.

Casey's offer was unbelievably appealing. It reminded her again, of how well he knew her.

Jane hated to back down from a challenge. A bet. A dare.

And Casey was practically _daring_ her to try again with Maura.

A chair for a confession.

A lopsided trade, to be sure.

But enough of an offer to be motivational. An excuse. A reason.

Besides, Casey was right.

If she didn't give Maura everything, then she would have hurt Maura, Casey, and herself for nothing.

_No._

Not for nothing.

She wasn't in love with him. She could admit that now.

Losing him, losing Maura…

Jane was more herself than she'd ever been before. More in touch with her thoughts, her feelings, her sexuality, her _life_.

The last year had brought her to a new level of awareness.

And that was something.

Something good, something important.

So hurting Casey, losing him- it hadn't been for nothing.

No matter the outcome of her relationship with Maura.

There was value in the things she'd done.

She tried to imagine what she'd say to Maura.

How she would phrase the bald truth to soften the blow.

Because she couldn't exactly walk up to her after all that had transpired and say, _I'm in love with you. Still. I think I always will be. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Weeks without seeing you feels like years. Just give me one chance and I'll prove to you that I'm the person who will make you whole. Forever._

Could she?

The thought of skydiving without a parachute seemed more appealing.

Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She flipped it open, sighing in annoyance.

"What Ma?" she groaned.

"It's Frankie," her mother's voice was clipped with worry. "There was a convenience store robbery-"

"Is he ok?" Jane's body filled with adrenaline. Panic. Fear.

"He's at Tufts Medical," Angela replied. "He's ok but he was hurt."

"Son of a bitch," Jane swore, standing. "Is he in I.C.U.? Basic care? What's his status?"

"I don't know!" Angela exclaimed. "I'm on my way there now."

"I'll call you in a minute," Jane responded. "And I'll meet you down there."

She hung up, immediately dialing Frost.

"Frankie got hurt," she skipped the greeting. "I need you to find out what happened."

"Hey," Frost replied. "I'm on it."

There was a long moment of silence, and she could faintly hear typing in the background. She slipped into jeans, a hoodie, and her boots, grabbing her shield and gun on the way out the door. If Frankie was hurt badly, if he died… she'd find justice with or without the blessing of BPD.

"He's at Tufts," Frost came back on the line. "Moderate concussion. Knife wound to the thigh."

"Critical?" Jane croaked.

"No, no," Frost was adamant. "Just a bump on the head and some stiches. Out in a day or two, I'm sure."

"Playing hero?" Jane asked.

"Being one," Frost replied. "Saved a mom and her baby from some crack-head. You want me to drive over?"

"I'm on my way down there already," Jane responded.

"If you need anything," Frost let the offer hand.

"I'll call you," Jane assured him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Frost returned. "Keep me posted. I'm sure he'll be fine. He's a Rizzoli- too stubborn to stay in bed."

"Yeah," Jane's throat hurt. "I'll let you know when I know."

She drove to the hospital in a frenzy, calling her mother back as she sped through the empty night streets.

"Ma," she began as soon as Angela picked up. "He's ok. Not critical. A little cut and a tiny bump on the head."

"Oh, Frankie," Angela sobbed.

"Where are you Ma?" Jane asked.

"I'm ten minutes away," she replied.

"I'm gonna be there in five," Jane exhaled. "It's gonna be ok."

"I know," Angela agreed, taking a shuddering breath. "He's a fighter."

Jane laughed, her mother's words evoking Frost's similar sentiment.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "He's a Rizzoli."

Angela's wet, sobbing chuckle echoed in Jane's ear as she pulled into the hospital. She knew Frost had looked at the official report. That Frankie was probably fine- probably stuffing his face with Jello and hitting on cute nurses…

But she needed to see him. Just to be sure.

When she found his room, she barged inside without knocking.

Sure enough, Frankie was sitting up in bed eating a pudding pack.

He was a bit pale, and his left leg sported a wide swatch of bandage.

"God damn it, Frankie," Jane cursed.

The woman at the foot of the bed looked up from his chart, wide eyes turning to the boisterous intrusion.

Jane froze as her mind processed.

"Maura," she blurted in surprise.

"Hey," Frankie mumbled around a bite of pudding. "You didn't have to come down here."

"Ma called me," Jane turned her focus to her brother. "Said you were in the hospital. She was panicked."

"Maura called her," Frankie's brow furrowed. "Told her it wasn't a big deal. I heard her!"

"Did she use medical terms?" Jane practically accused.

Maura blushed, and Jane tried again to focus on Frankie.

But something about Maura was…

All Jane could think was, _like a moth to a flame_.

Nothing could make Angela panic like a good slew of medical jargon.

"Well yeah," he rolled his eyes. Then it seemed to occur to him how that had been enough to make Angela hysterical. "_Oh._ Sorry to drag you all the way down here. It's no big deal- I'm fine. If it was something major, I woulda had someone call you directly."

"Can I have a minute alone with him?" Jane asked harshly, eyeing Maura pointedly.

Maura flushed a deeper crimson, swallowing harshly.

"Of course," she breathed, practically running from the room. "I'm sorry."

"Jane," Frankie scolded. "Don't be an ass."

"What the hell is she doing here?" Jane demanded.

"She was still at work," he shrugged. "She heard the call come in and so she came down to check on me. She got me extra pudding."

He held up a second snack-pack triumphantly and grinned.

"That's pretty presumptuous," Jane scoffed.

"I _asked_ her to come," Frankie met Jane's gaze head-on. "She called here to see if it was ok. Said she didn't want to intrude. She's my friend too, Jane."

Jane swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she backed down. "You're right. I'm glad you're ok, Frankie. Heard you're a real hero. You're starting to make me look bad."

"Nah," he shrugged, digging his spoon back into the pudding. "Just another day on the job. But you might go out there and apologize to my friend. She did come all the way down here and get me this second pudding. And this private room."

Jane hung her head in defeat.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll be right back."

In the hallway, she looked left and then right. Maura was standing at the end of the corridor, looking out a row of windows, arms wrapped around herself.

Slipping her sweatshirt off, she approached Maura with as much calm confidence as she could muster.

"I'm sorry," she held the garment out as a peace offering. Maura eyed her warily before accepting, sliding into it and zipping it up.

"No," she shook her head. "_I'm_ sorry. I was intruding-"

"You're not intruding," Jane cut her off, shaking her head. "I'm an ass. You're family, Maura. I'm glad you came down. It means a lot to Frankie."

Jane paused.

Laying all her cards on the table wasn't quite as easy as she'd hoped.

"It means a lot to _me_," she added quietly.

Maura's eyes met hers. She seemed to be filled to the brim with emotions, and at any moment they would spill out all over the floor between them. Jane wasn't sure how to stop that from happening but she doubted she was strong enough to live through it.

"Thank you," Maura whispered.

Jane nodded.

It felt like… like a truce.

"It was a stellar death," Maura said wistfully after a moment, her gaze falling on some distant point out the window.

"Whose death?" Jane asked, concern edging into her tone. "And what's so "stellar" about dying?"

Maura's head snapped up, as if startled she had spoken the words aloud.

"No," Maura shook her head, swallowed harshly. "_Stellar,_ as in the death of a star."

"Oh," Jane shrugged.

Should that mean something to her?

"It seemed a fitting metaphor," Maura breathed. "Given… _this_."

She gestured absently at the space between them.

"This?" Jane queried, a hint of trepidation to her tone.

"The cataclysmic destruction of our relationship," Maura replied evenly. "Do you know about supernovas?"

"Not really," Jane responded. Tried to joke. "Is this going to make me want to kill myself?"

Maura looked at her thoughtfully, assessing. Her eyes were dark, serious.

"Perhaps," she breathed.

Jane averted her eyes from Maura's penetrating stare.

"Tell me," she whispered.

Still, Maura hesitated.

"Sometimes astronomers note and record bright stars in the sky that were absent in previous observations," Maura began. "Frequently, they're supernovas. They are stars that have reached the end of their lives and exploded. Supernovas can briefly outshine entire galaxies and radiate more energy than the sun will in its entire existence."

"Ok," Jane hedged, distinctly aware that she was missing the point of the analogy.

"I was thinking about what happened between us," Maura elucidated. "How our relationship just exploded and for a moment it burned so brightly it blinded everyone around us and then it faded from being as if it never even existed at all. I thought it was turning into something bright and brilliant but in reality it was dying."

She was silent for a moment. Her next words were soft, distant.

"It reminds me of a supernova, that's all."

Jane was right. It did make her want to die.

_Fix it._

She had to fix this.

From the end of the hallway Jane could hear Angela storming into Frankie's room. She welcomed the distraction.

Maura looked so fragile, so delicate, and Jane wasn't sure she possessed the skill and care to address her without breaking her.

"He's in for it now," she snickered, using every ounce of talent she possessed to fake an affect of humor and lightness.

Maura smiled and it was so transparent that Jane almost wiped it away with her fingers. She wanted to simply brush that false joy off Maura's face and replace it with true happiness via her lips and tongue.

"It's not really his fault," Maura sighed. "I tried to explain that he was alright but he wouldn't let me put him on the phone. He said she would only yell at him."

"Oh, she's going to yell," Jane laughed. "His ass is grass."

Maura's nose wrinkled adorably at the crass phrase.

Jane prayed Maura would correct her language, admonish her for the slip. Instead, the other woman remained silent.

"He gonna be here overnight?" Jane asked.

"With his concussion they'll want to keep him for observation," Maura nodded. "But I'm sure they'll release him sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"And he's," Jane hesitated, adrenaline and fear still swirling in her gut. "He's ok?"

"Yes," Maura put a soft hand on Jane's arm. "He's fine."

Jane pulled away from Maura's touch as discreetly as she could. Nervously scratched the back of her head.

"That's good," she replied. "I'm gonna… go check on my Ma. Make sure she's not too hard on him. You should uh, you know, come check too- when you're ready."

Maura nodded minutely.

Jane cursed her cowardice even as she acknowledged that the hospital hallway wasn't the place to lay all her cards on the table.

But that had been something.

Progress.

It was better than nothing.

Angela was in the middle of reaming Frankie for the whole situation when Jane interrupted. She tried to deflect some, to calm her down, but she knew it was just part of the coping process for her mother.

Maura returned a few minutes later. It was a little awkward to coexist in the same space, like there wasn't quite enough oxygen for all of them and Jane was coming up on the short end of the deal.

Maura made some sort of excuse to leave and folded Jane's sweatshirt neatly before handing it back with a clear, precise, _thank you, Jane._

Jane moved to put it back on but stopped when she realized it smelled like Maura. She'd made progress sure, but that was too much to handle.

Angela and Frankie turned to her simultaneously as soon as Maura left the room.

"That's it?" Frankie asked. "You're just gonna let her go?"

"What?" Jane tried to deflect. "What are you talking about?"

"This is your chance," he replied. "She's here, Jane."

"Yeaaaah," Jane drew the word out hesitantly. "And?"

"We all know she didn't come here to see my sorry ass," Frankie snorted. "She came because she wanted to see _you_."

"Sure didn't seem like it," Jane retorted.

"She's reaching out to you the only way she knows how," Angela offered. "Now you reach back."

"I've been reaching for months," Jane protested, but she recognized the stupidity of it as she spoke. "Every time I reach out she backs away and I fall flat on my face."

"Jane," Angela huffed. "Sometimes you're so dense I don't know how you ever get anything done. She's not backing out now- you're _pushing_ her away."

"Well why can't she say something, damn it!" Jane exclaimed. "How come I'm the one who always has to go first? To do all the reaching? Huh?"

"You can stew over that," Angela suggested softly. "And be old and alone. _Or_ you can get over yourself and finish this."

"Or start it," Frankie interjected softly.

Jane's eyes whipped to his.

_Start it._

She was standing before she realized she'd made her mind up. She was out the door before she realized she was going to do it.

She was going to lay all her cards on the table.

No more half-truths. No more hiding or running or faking.

All in.

She took off towards the elevators at a jog, hoping to catch Maura before she disappeared into the labyrinth structure of the parking garage. She pulled out her phone, sending Maura a quick text.

_Wait._

Outside, she looked around almost frantically.

And then she saw her.

Where the pathway curved around a bed of half-bloomed tulips, Maura was frozen in place, her back to Jane. Jane approached her, the nervous fluttering in her gut growing with each step until it was a violent pounding like the roar of airplane turbines.

"Thanks for waiting," she came to a stop in front of Maura. "I just… I have something I need to say to you."

"Ok," Maura hedged. Fear colored her irises. She shrank into herself, as if terrified Jane might censure her or yell at her.

Jane forged on.

"I'm in love with you," she blurted. "So unbelievably in love with you that it's crazy. And I know, I know things are messed up and stupid and maybe we can't fix them but I wanted you to know. I wanted to tell you that I'm _in love_ with you, still, and I can't imagine my life without you."

"Jane," Maura's voice was tremulous, quiet.

"Please don't," Jane held up a hand. "I'm not really looking for a response and to be honest I'm afraid of what you'll say. I just needed to tell you- for me. If you have things you need to say, I'll listen when you're ready. But right now I just want to have this moment. Is that ok?"

Maura nodded. She reached out tentatively. Laced her fingers through Jane's.

Squeezed softly.

Jane's entire world narrowed down to that contact.

That contact and the dark, swirling vortex of Maura's gaze.

Leaning forward, Maura pressed her lips softly to Jane's. So softly Jane wasn't sure she really felt it at all. So briefly Jane thought she might have imagined it.

"Ok," Maura breathed, releasing Jane's hand and disappearing down the path towards her car.

"Ok," Jane echoed.


	14. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere

They crossed paths at work the next day and Jane stopped walking where a week ago she wouldn't have.

"How's your day going?" she asked. Maura looked startled, surprised.

But then something in her eyes shifted and she smiled shyly.

Jane felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. Maura was so sweet and tender and beautiful…

"It's going well," she replied. "Yours?"

"Fine," Jane tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. She wanted to make this work. She wanted to be better. She wanted it to be easy.

But it was still so hard.

Baby steps.

"I hope you have a nice afternoon," Maura breathed. She touched Jane's forearm lightly.

Jane nodded, distracted by even that brief contact.

She felt… human, when Maura touched her.

"You too."

It was something.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

By midweek Jane was on the verge of total insanity.

She wasn't exactly sure what response she'd hoped her confession would garner, but complete silence was definitely not on the list.

It was agonizing.

Every time they saw each other now Jane made an effort to inquire after her friend. Said hello. Asked about her day. How she was feeling.

But nothing more than that transpired between them.

Dr. Ashleigh was sympathetic but not particularly helpful.

"What do want from her?"

Jane narrowed her eyes at him as if it were totally obvious.

"Come on," she scoffed. "You know what I want."

"I don't," he countered. "You've never actually said."

"I want her to say she feels the same," Jane trailed off.

"Ok," he allowed. "So she says she feels the same. Then what?"

Jane opened her mouth to respond but realized she didn't have an answer.

Then what, indeed.

It was just supposed to magically fall into place.

She wanted to kiss Maura. Sleep beside her. Wake up next to her. Love her, _from this day forward_.

"I uh," she equivocated. "I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"And do you think that having her verbalize that she reciprocates your feelings will make that happen?" he asked.

It sounded so silly when he said it like that.

As if admitting her love, having Maura return the sentiment, would somehow erase the months of pain. Would fix their relationship.

"Fuck," Jane groaned. "How the hell am I supposed to build a relationship out of what we have right now?"

"Just like you build any relationship," he suggested.

"So what," Jane hedged. "I'm supposed to try to date her? We already know everything about each other."

"Do you?" he challenged.

Jane reconsidered. With the distance between them, there were plenty of things she didn't know about Maura now.

"Besides," he added. "I think you might consider attempting to befriend her a bit first. Show her that you can be trusted and that you value her presence in your life."

"I'm worried it won't be enough," Jane admitted. "I'm worried that she'll find someone else, fall in love with someone else, while I'm trying to be her friend again."

"You want her to trust you," Dr. Ashleigh replied. "Then you have to trust her too. Rebuilding the relationship will require you to make some leaps of faith. You've already taken quite a few risks. Do you trust Maura?"

"With my life," Jane swore. The truth of it startled her.

Despite everything that had happened, she still trusted the other woman innately. Would have put her life in Maura's hands seven days a week and twice on Sunday. She felt a little less comfortable surrendering her heart, her emotions, but she'd done that too. Would continue to do it.

The other day at the hospital she had put all her trust in Maura.

"Why hasn't she said anything?" Jane breathed, her voice a pained whisper.

"Why do _you_ think she hasn't said anything?"

"She's afraid," Jane whispered, not bothering with a sarcastic remark about rhetorical questions. This was too important. "She's scared I'm going to hurt her. That I, I dunno, that I don't actually know what I want or something. That I'm going to wake up one day and think this was all some sort of phase or mistake and she'll be back to having no one, nothing. I betrayed her, as her best friend, and I don't think she knows how to deal with it. Everyone else in her life has abandoned her at one time or another- but she let me in, she expected more from me. I don't think she even really knows how to fight for someone."

"Are _you_ willing to fight for _her_?" he responded.

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't," Jane shrugged. "I'm here for me, sure. I needed it. But I kept coming back week after week for her. Because _she_ deserves it."

"It's up to you what you do now," he said. "But I suggest you continue to be honest with her. Be gentle, be kind, be open. Try to remember what you just said to me- she's _scared_. Everyone else in her life has abandoned her. Show her that you are not going to be one of those people."

"I can do that," Jane nodded.

She could do that.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

On Thursday, Jane went in to work early. She stopped at Maura's favorite, over-priced coffee shop and bought a drink with a name so long and frou-frou that it made her nose wrinkle in distaste just to say it out loud.

But Maura was worth any amount of embarrassment or discomfort.

At the last minute she grabbed a cinnamon scone as well.

The precinct was still quiet when she arrived. She liked it that way. It had a pulse, a heartbeat, and in the early morning and the late evening it slowed to a steady thrum.

It calmed her, comforted her.

She popped into the morgue and gave the peace offerings to Maura's intern who was diligently setting up for the day. At the last minute, she scribbled a hasty note on the coffee cup, handing it back with slightly shaking hands.

"It's good to see you again," the intern offered, something in her eyes betraying that same knowledge everyone seemed to possess about Jane's relationship with Maura. Even before she herself had known.

"Hopefully you'll be seeing a lot more of me," Jane hedged.

"Good," the young woman smiled in return. "It's not the same around here without you."

Jane nodded.

She knew the feeling.

Jane went about her day as if nothing was different, but her thoughts kept floating to that coffee, that scone.

It felt epic. Monumental.

In the beginning, she and Maura had become friends almost instantly. They hadn't really needed to work for it.

There had been such an immediate bond. Jane had known from the second they met that they would be friends. Everything after that moment had just cemented it.

Now, she was building their friendship from the ground up.

Coming at it like they were virtual strangers.

Only they weren't strangers.

She knew what Maura's favorite coffee was. She knew what the inside of her closet looked like. She knew what her shampoo smelled like. She knew about her childhood. She knew what her cooking tasted like. She knew her past, her present, and wanted to be her future.

Jane was determined to put all her knowledge about Maura to good use. Every fact, detail, feature, interest, like, dislike…

Her phone buzzed and she flipped it open idly to see she'd received a text.

From Maura.

The blood rushed in her ears as she pressed the button to open it. The message was brief.

_Thank you for the coffee. It was very thoughtful._

Two sentences. Nine words.

But it felt like so, _so_ much more.

It was a lifeline, a tether. She'd reached out and Maura had reached back.

She had reached back.

Jane smiled. Space opened in her chest. She breathed deeply and it didn't hurt.

It… didn't hurt.

It just felt like breathing.

It felt good.

Normal.

Frost eyed her warily.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jane swallowed, trying to suppress a ridiculous grin. "I'm… great. You wanna get a drink tonight?"

Frost's eyebrows rose. While Jane had accepted invitations to go out it had been months since she'd extended one herself.

"Yeah," he stammered. "Yeah, I'd love to."

Jane smiled and returned to the form she'd been filling out.

Maura thought she was thoughtful.

Oh man.

It was like Santa Clause telling her she was _nice_.

She had a drink with Frost and Korsak that night and she felt human. Real.

On Monday, she bought a pack of multi-colored Post It notes. Maura loved the sticky-papered pads. She put a little bow on it and when she slipped down to Maura's office she was glad to see her friend wasn't there.

She wasn't ready to confront her yet. She just wanted to subtly let Maura know she still cared. Was still around. Could still be a friend.

Would wait.

She deposited the gift on Maura's desk and went back to work.

When she and Frost came back from chasing down a lead, there was a note stuck to her desk.

_I can't imagine my life without you either._

Jane was so elated she thought she might float away. She delicately folded the note in half and stuck it in her breast pocket.

At random intervals throughout the day she took it out and looked at it, traced a finger over Maura's familiar script. Patted it through her pocket. Imagined framing it.

She wanted to rush things.

To barge into the morgue and make demands of Maura.

But she knew that would ruin it.

Would break this fragile, delicate thing she was building.

And part of her was enjoying the development, the slow burn, the drawn-out ascent.

It was giving her the opportunity to fall in love with Maura all over again. Only this time there would be none of the guilt, the anger, the shame, the worry, the fear…

This time, she was determined to do it right.

So she paced herself.

They continued to bump into each other in the hallway, at the elevators, in the lab. Jane made it a point to initiate conversation, to touch Maura platonically. To let her know she was there, was trying.

She wore the clothing she knew Maura loved. Brushed her hair before she left for work. She smiled widely and listened attentively and wore the perfume she knew Maura liked.

On Thursday she left a bottle of wine on the autopsy table. A bottle of 2007 Perrin et Fils Gigondas La Gille.

No note, no card, no indication who it was from.

She wanted to know if Maura would remember.

It was the vintage Maura had served the first time they'd had a movie night at Maura's house. Jane still had the cork in a drawer at her apartment.

It had been harder to track down than she'd expected. She had to go to four different wine stores before finding a bottle.

Icy rain had pelted her the entire time as she reminded herself again and again that Maura was worth it.

Christmas was two weeks away and Jane was starting to worry.

She wasn't sure whether or not to get Maura a gift. Or even what kind of gift. Something friendly? Or something romantic?

At lunch she stopped in the café to talk to Angela.

"Hey Ma," she smiled. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What?" Angela didn't bother hiding her suspicion.

"It's about Christmas dinner," Jane licked her lips. "I want to invite Maura."

Angela's eyes widened and the rag she was using to wipe down the counter stilled mid-air.

"You do?" she asked. Hope and joy peeked out from her reserved tone.

"Yeah," Jane nodded. "I'm sure she already has plans or whatever but I just um, I want to invite her to join us. Cause, like you said, she's family and-"

"You don't have to convince me," Angela interjected softly. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "She's welcome to join us."

"Ok," Jane shifted awkwardly.

The look Angela was giving her made her feel unbelievably transparent.

"I'm trying to be her friend again," Jane admitted.

Jeeze. Her mother should be in charge of interrogations. Just that expectant look had her spilling her guts.

"Really?" her mother tried to sound casual, nonchalant.

Jane's lips quirked up.

"Yeah," she replied. "For like two weeks now. After I uh, spilled my guts at the hospital, you know… I'm just trying to, I don't know, make her less afraid of me."

"Oh Jane!" Angela exclaimed, rounding the corner to embrace her tightly.

"Maaaa," Jane whined. "Take it easy."

"It's a big deal," Angela gushed.

Jane let it settle over her.

"Yeah," she breathed. "It is."

They stood in silence for a moment, letting the truth of it settle around the.

"Look I've gotta go," Jane finally said. "But I'll see you later."

"Call me after you ask!" Angela yelled after her.

Jane waved absently.

Nerves swamped her. She practiced what she'd say. How she would approach Maura.

At the end of the day she rode the elevator down and walked the familiar path to Maura's office. Every step, she debated turning back. Every inch closer, she thought about running away.

But she could do this.

She _had to_.

She deserved it. Maura deserved it.

Jane paused at the open door of Maura's office and her breath caught.

Maura was working at her desk, scrutinizing something on her computer screen. She was biting her lip, reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose. Her hair was a little messy. Jane would have bet her life that Maura had slipped off her shoes under the looming barrier of the oak desk.

She noticed Jane's presence and looked up, startled.

A hint of fear skittered through her eyes.

"Hey," Jane rasped. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. You were pretty focused and I didn't want to interrupt…"

"Not at all," Maura gestured towards the chair across from hers. "Come in."

"I, um," Jane faltered. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, tacitly refusing the offer to sit. "I wanted to ask you something. About your plans… For dinner. I mean, about Christmas… For dinner on Christmas. I uh-"

"Jane," Maura's quiet voice interrupted her rambling. She was looking at her softly, patiently.

"I understand if you have plans," Jane blurted her memorized speech. "But I would really like it if you would join my family and I for Christmas dinner. Please don't think that the lateness of my invitation is in any way a reflection of how much I want you there. I want you to come. If you're not busy, that is."

Maura's eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. She looked completely off-guard.

Vulnerable.

Unbelievably sexy.

"You can um," Jane's confidence wavered. "You can let me know later if you need to check your schedule or something."

"I'd like to come," Maura replied shyly. "If you'll have me."

"Great," Jane grinned. She thought she might explode. Joy was welling up inside her like someone inflating a balloon too rapidly. She was bound to burst.

It would have been the ideal time to leave, to excuse herself before she did anything idiotic but she couldn't seem to move.

It had been so long since she'd been in the office with Maura. It was so intimate, so comfortable, so familiar.

And Maura was looking at her with those warm, hazel eyes that made it feel like everything in the entire world was going to be ok. Like as long as this woman in front of her existed, nothing bad could possibly happen.

Long moments passed and the air around them shifted, grew charged.

Jane rocked forwards and Maura's chair squeaked, breaking her trance.

"Well," Jane mumbled. "I should uh, I should go. I'll let you know what time dinner is."

"Ok," Maura swallowed. "I'd like to bring something. Wine or dessert perhaps."

"Maybe a bottle of _Perrin and Fish Gorgonzola La Gillette_," Jane intentionally butchered the name of the wine with a fake French accent and a wide grin.

"Perhaps," Maura nodded, smiling. "Although I think maybe that should be reserved for special occasions- like movie nights."

So. She remembered.

Jane thought she might die of happiness.

"I should go," she repeated. "But I'll talk to you later."

"Alright," Maura allowed. "Have a nice evening."

"You too," Jane murmured, but her feet wouldn't move.

Maura was smiling at her, her dimples showing. Her tousled, end of day weariness only made her look more gorgeous. And even though she knew how Jane felt, Maura wasn't running.

She didn't flinch or look away.

Eventually, Jane heard voices behind her and they jolted her into motion. She nodded once and fled.

Holy hell. She was going to spend Christmas with Maura.


	15. Become the light

The days until then passed in a blur.

Cases, crimes, collaring criminals…

Jane was vaguely aware of the daily ins and outs of her life but her mind was constantly drifting to Christmas.

Wandering. Wondering. Waiting.

On Christmas Eve she went to her mother's house, was joined by her brothers for family dinner. She spent four hours after the meal rearranging the lights and adjusting the tree and tidying the entryway and shoveling the walk and driving her family quietly insane.

But everything had to be perfect.

It had to.

She spent the night at the family home. Her apartment still reminded her of Casey, and she didn't want the melancholy to interfere with Christmas day. They had only spoken twice since his return, both times over the phone and only because they had things to discuss, to work out, for the divorce.

Up in the morning before even the Rizzoli matron, Jane bounced excitedly from task to task without complaining. She helped set the table, bringing in extra chairs from the garage. She folded napkins, polished silverware, arranged centerpieces. She stirred and sautéd and tossed.

Anything to keep her hands busy and distract her from the overwhelming pressure she was putting on herself.

And on Maura.

An hour before the guests were set to arrive she shoveled the sidewalk one last time and hopped in the shower.

She took her time getting dressed, drying her hair, touching on a bit of make-up. Before rejoining her family she appraised herself in the mirror.

Charcoal slacks, a royal blue sweater, her trusty boots.

Things she'd worn many times in the past. Familiar things. The sweater Maura loved, the pants her mother recommended, the boots she knew would keep her steady on her feet.

They were things of comfort, of familiarity.

But somehow…

She looked different than she remembered.

Like the changes inside her were finally starting to show on the outside. Her features seemed relaxed. Even though her crow's feet were growing ever deeper, she looked at ease.

And she realized that she was.

She was nervous as hell about what would happen that evening. About the progression of her relationship with Maura over the coming days, weeks.

But she was comfortable with herself.

She was Jane Rizzoli, unashamed.

No more hiding.

No more fear.

She was more herself than she'd ever imagined possible, and constantly becoming a better, truer version of herself.

The doorbell rang and her heart skipped a beat. She heard voices, pausing to discern their owners- Frost and his girlfriend, and she took a deep breath.

_Show time._

She bounded excitedly downstairs and greeted their first guests. Korsak soon followed. A couple of Frankie's young, single buddies from the beat arrived. Rondo and one of his friends. One of Korsak's pals from his first year on the force. A few other friends and acquaintances.

Dinner was supposed to be at 5.

When Maura was the only one who hadn't arrived by 5:15, Angela pulled Jane aside.

"Have you called her?"

"Yeah, Ma," Jane nodded. "I did. What if something happened to her?"

"I'm sure she's fine," Angela soothed. "Call again."

"I already called three times," Jane exhaled harshly. "And texted twice."

"We can wait," Angela assured her.

"No," Jane sighed. "Everyone shouldn't have to wait. We can eat."

The meal began, Maura's empty chair providing an odd pressure throughout the room.

Jane's mind whirled.

Maura wasn't coming.

She had run.

Abandoned her.

Jane had waited, just like Maura asked…

And Maura hadn't come.

Should she not have waited? Should she have pressed? What was going through Maura's mind?

Jane resisted the urge to call again, knowing that the incessant ringing before Maura's voicemail picked up would only make her anxiety increase ten-fold.

She tried not to wallow, tried to enjoy the friends and family filling the room with warmth and love, but it was virtually impossible.

This was supposed to be their time- hers and Maura's.

Maura was supposed to come to dinner and there would be no more waiting.

No more of this agonizing, terrifying, _waiting._

When the doorbell rang at 6:00, Jane's heart leapt into her throat even as she leapt to her feet. She raced to the front door and flung it open.

She was completely taken aback by what she saw.

Maura, looking frazzled and rough, a frown on her face and tears in her eyes.

"Are you ok?" Jane instantly pulled Maura inside.

"I'm fine, but I'm terribly sorry that I'm late," Maura practically pouted. "I got a flat tire on the way here and my phone fell in a puddle."

Jane noticed a cab pulling away.

"Aww sweetie," she soothed. "I'm so sorry." She pulled Maura into a hug instinctively. She almost stopped when she realized what she was doing but when she felt Maura return the embrace, Jane relaxed.

Maura's arms snaked around Jane's waist, fisting in her sweater. Jane held tightly to Maura's smaller frame.

Maura smelled phenomenal. The feel of her was mind-numbingly exquisite.

"Let's get you something to eat," Jane coaxed, pulling back. Her voice was low and rough but neither of them acknowledged it.

"I'm all wet," Maura huffed, looking down to indicate her shoes, which clearly weren't designed for trudging through the snow and ice. "I'm not fit for company."

"You'd be fit for company naked," Jane grinned. Again she felt that instant remorse, as if she might be overstepping, but Maura blushed and smiled slightly and it eased somewhat.

"Even so," Maura breathed. "I'd prefer to collect myself first."

"Ok," Jane nodded. "Take all the time you need. I can try to scare up something for you to change into."

"God forbid," Maura smiled. "Perhaps just a towel."

"I can do that," Jane assured her, returning the smile. "Come on."

When she turned to go upstairs, she felt Maura's hand slip into hers. She stumbled and Maura giggled discreetly, covering it with a bad fake cough.

Jane squeezed the warm hand in hers. She lead Maura upstairs to her childhood bedroom, left her on the twin bed while she fetched a clean towel.

"Here you go," she handed it over. "Straight out of the dryer."

"Thank you," Maura accepted it. "And… thank you for inviting me over today. I'm sorry I was late."

She slid off her pumps and began drying her legs. Jane tried not to stare but between the cleavage the action caused and the long, smooth expanse of Maura's legs on display…

"I wouldn't care if you came down the chimney at midnight," Jane replied, shrugging. "I'm just glad you came."

"Me too," Maura admitted shyly. She stopped drying her legs and met Jane's gaze. "I know this probably isn't the appropriate time or place for this but I just wanted to tell you that I… I know what you're doing. And I… well, I appreciate it. I have some things I'm working on but I wanted you to know that you-"

Maura blushed and bit her lip.

Jane held her breath.

"You're not wasting your time," Maura finished on a long exhale. "I just wanted you to know that you aren't wasting your time. I'm not quite ready yet. And I'm so, _so_ sorry. But I, uh, I think I will be soon. You've been so wonderful, Jane. I know it's a lot to ask you, that I have no _right_ to ask you, but… if you would consider waiting just a little while longer…"

"Yes," Jane rumbled, almost on top of Maura's words.

"What?" Maura seemed surprised, her eyes widening. As if she'd been expecting rejection.

"I'll wait," Jane sat next to Maura on the small bed. "We have a lot of things to work out, together, when you're ready. And I'll wait."

"I'm glad," Maura whispered, her voice tremulous. "I'm not sure I deserve it, but I'm glad. I'm sorry for everything I've put you through." She tentatively grasped Jane's hand. Jane locked their fingers together, kissed the back of Maura's hand.

"You're worth it," Jane said.

Maura rested her head on Jane's shoulder, sighed heavily. Neither woman shifted, too afraid to move forwards but unsure how to remain still for too long.

"Jane?" Angela's voice called up the stairs.

"We'll be down in a minute!" Jane yelled back.

"I suppose we should go," Maura sighed.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "But first, I uh, I got you something."

"Oh, Jane," Maura blushed. "I didn't get you anything. I feel so thoughtless-"

"It's ok," Jane smiled, tried to convey with her gaze that it didn't matter. She stood, grabbed the box off the table and handed it to Maura, resuming her seat.

She shifted nervously as Maura picked delicately at the wrapping paper.

"You can rip it," Jane chuckled. "It's ok."

"I'm nervous," Maura admitted.

Jane put a hand over Maura's where it held the box.

"I know," Jane nodded. "Me too."

She pulled back so Maura could open the wrapping. Jane fidgeted with her hands absently as Maura opened the box, pulling the silly gift out.

Suddenly, it seemed ridiculous.

Maura put the box aside, holding on to the gift with trembling fingers.

"It's," she stammered, confusion and something else in her voice.

"It's renowned American forensic anthropologist William Bass," Jane laughed anxiously, reaching over to flick the toy. The head bounced wildly. "It's a Bobblehead."

Maura's brow remained furrowed and Jane felt like a total idiot.

"Ok then," Jane tried to swallow the nauseous feeling swimming in her gut. Why had she thought the stupid gift was…

Maura's vice grip on her arm stopped her from standing. She looked over with a question on her lips but it died when she took Maura in.

Her eyes were closed, her lips trembling, her hand clutching the figure desperately. She looked like she was disintegrating.

"Oh god," Jane stammered. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I thought-"

"I love you," Maura breathed, almost inaudible around Jane's stuttering apology.

"What?" Jane croaked.

"I love you," Maura repeated, her grip on Jane's arm easing but not releasing. "You know me like no one else ever has or ever will. And for some reason… you're still here- with me. You said you love me and then you… you _stayed_. I know, without a doubt, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jane. It's a certainty that defies logic. No one has ever… I promise you, I won't make you wait very much longer."

Speechless, Jane simply nodded. She leaned her forehead against Maura's, breathing the air straight from Maura's lips.

They didn't move, and Jane worried about Maura's hesitation. She would wait- just like she said she would. But she wondered what was holding Maura back.

"I suppose we should join the others," Maura suggested softly.

"Yeah," Jane managed, pulling back. She stood, extending a hand to help Maura up.

Maura accepted, propelling herself into Jane's space. She wrapped her arms around Jane in a tight embrace that made Jane's throat clog and her eyes water. She encircled Maura warmly, holding her close.

"Merry Christmas," Maura whispered.

"Merry Christmas," Jane replied.

They proceeded back down the stairs and to the dinner table. Jane waited until Maura sat before resuming her own seat. The conversation halted momentarily as greetings were exchanged. Then Tommy and Frankie re-launched into the argument they were having as everyone continued to feast on the elaborate meal Angela had prepared.

Maura's hand snuck under the table to grasp Jane's. Jane didn't hear a word of the conversation.

Maura's hand on hers, their joined hands resting on her thigh, blinded and deafened her to the rest of the world.

She silently vowed that since she'd gotten what she wanted for Christmas this year, she'd never ask for anything again.

After desert, people began to slowly disperse. Eventually the crowd dwindled to Frost and his girlfriend, Korsak, Maura, and the family.

They had moved into the living room and were comfortably sprawled as they drank hot chocolate and warm cider.

Maura was sitting so close to Jane she could smell her, but had seemingly lost her nerve to touch without the table to conceal it.

Jane didn't mind. She was having enough trouble assimilating their conversation in her bedroom, Maura's touch during dinner, without having to deal with even more contact.

Korsak stood, stretched, and turned with expectant eyes to Maura.

"Do you want a ride?" he offered.

Maura smiled.

"Yes," she nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you. Let me just go get my things."

"Take your time," Korsak replied.

Maura stood, disappeared.

All eyes turned to Jane.

"What the hell happened with you two?" Tommy demanded.

"Tommy," Angela scoffed, but her voice lacked conviction.

Jane's eyebrows raised in surprise. Everyone was staring at her expectantly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she stammered.

"You two disappearing upstairs and coming back all… weird," Frankie offered. "What the hell happened?"

"Guys," Jane barely resisted the urge to stamp her foot. "Butt out!"

"At least tell us if you're finally friends again," Frost urged.

"Yeah," Jane nodded. "We're friends."

"Yes!" Angela squealed. The others mirrored her glee and Jane frantically shushed them.

"Come on," she hissed. "Stop being weird! Please just let us figure this out on our own time, ok?"

"Sure thing," Korsak agreed, looking sternly at the others in the room.

Maura reappeared, shoes on, purse and Bobblehead in hand.

"I'm ready," she said.

Jane's heart pounded.

"I'll walk you out," she said.

Maura hugged everyone else in turn and farewells were exchanged. Jane waited by the door. She hugged Korsak and sent him out to the car.

Pausing in the doorway, Maura hesitated.

Jane furrowed her brow, waited for Maura to speak.

"I suppose it would be cliché for me to kiss you," Maura murmured.

Jane's eyebrows rose, her pulse jumped. Maura looked upwards and Jane tracked the movement, remembering the ugly clump of mistletoe her brother had planted.

It was the hardest thing Jane had ever done, turning Maura away.

"When you finally kiss me," Jane breathed. "I want it to be out of desire, not because of decorations."

Maura's lips turned up but she looked rejected, her eyes falling to the floor.

"Couldn't it be both?" she asked.

Jane raised her chin with a gentle hand.

"When you're ready," Jane rasped. "I'll kiss you every day for the rest of my life."

Maura swallowed harshly.

"Promise?" she asked.

Jane nodded. She couldn't speak past the heaviness in her throat, the weight of unspoken things on her tongue, but Maura seemed to understand.

Leaning forward, Maura pressed a soft kiss to Jane's cheek, lingering for a long minute. And then she disappeared out into the late-winter blackness, leaving Jane with her heart in her throat.

"I promise," she whispered into the night.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

That night, Jane couldn't sleep.

It all just seemed too good to be true.

Too… easy.

But she admitted to herself that nothing about this was easy.

It was gradual and painful and she and Maura were still so far apart, even if they were slowly traversing the distance between them.

She wished, for a fleeting minute, that she were Maura's friend again. She would pour her a glass of wine and plop them both on the couch and she would ask what was holding the doctor back, what was stopping her, what was making the wheels in her brain spin so frantically.

She would confront those fears, those thoughts, pull them out of Maura and expose them to the light of day.

But it felt like that wasn't her place now and she hated that.

Because she could sense that something was indeed holding Maura back. Without knowing what that was, Jane had no way to fight it, deal with it, fix it.

She wanted Maura to be ready.

Now.

They had both been hurting for so long, struggling.

It was their turn to be happy.

Their time to be together.

They had reached a plateau of sorts; Jane simply had to wait for Maura now.

But what if she was never ready?

Or worse, what if while Jane was waiting, Maura changed her mind?

When she finally fell asleep, Jane was plagued with doubts.

But Maura's words kept whispering through her head.

_I won't make you wait very much longer_.

Dr. Ashleigh was right.

It was time to start trusting Maura again.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

The odd doldrums that reached from December 26th until January 31st seemed to stretch out interminably for Jane.

The days were cold, grey, dreary.

Work was hectic and she only saw Maura twice in the days immediately following Christmas, both times briefly in passing.

Maura looked exhausted, as if she hadn't slept at all since their holiday meal. It worried Jane.

She texted on and off to keep contact between them and Maura responded, but never with much detail.

Fear and dread settled in the pit of Jane's stomach.

She debated asking Maura to spend New Year's Eve with her but thought it might be too much pressure. Maura seemed like she wanted Jane to wait still, and though Jane wasn't sure exactly what she was waiting for, it didn't seem like Maura was ready.

But Jane was ready.

She was ready to love Maura openly, wholeheartedly, without fear or reservation. She was ready to sleep beside her and cook for her and laugh with her. She was ready to protect her and help her and care for her.

Jane had agreed to attend a New Year's Eve party at Frost's apartment. As she got ready, she began to regret accepting the invitation.

She wasn't particularly in the mood to be surrounded by drunken revelers. And the idea of being alone at midnight made her feel surprisingly despondent.

When she arrived just after 10, the party was in full swing. There were plenty of familiar faces and Jane relaxed somewhat. Frost's girlfriend had clearly invited a large number of people as well, filling the apartment with warmth and laughter.

Jane made the rounds, chatting with coworkers and her family members and throwing back a couple of beers.

She kept checking her phone on the off-chance that Maura might call or text. Might reach out.

No such luck.

By 11:40, Jane was tired of making small-talk and pretending to be excited for midnight.

She wanted to be home on the couch in her pajamas with a beer in hand.

She wanted to be with Maura.

She stepped out onto the front stoop and dialed Maura's number.

"Hello?" Maura answered. There was the din of a party in the background. A young, drunk couple stumbled past Jane.

"Hey," Jane breathed.

She had imagined that Maura was home, alone. Realizing she'd been wrong made her feel immensely foolish, and to her dismay, incredibly jealous.

"How are you?" Maura's voice softened.

"Fine," Jane said, wincing at the bite in her tone. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll talk to you another time."

Someone on the other end of the line began speaking to Maura.

"_Bye_," Jane added.

"Wait!" Maura exclaimed. "Jane, please just hold on for a moment."

Jane could tell the phone had been muffled as Maura spoke. She couldn't make out what was being said but even with the distortion she could tell Maura was using her "socialite" voice, that disgustingly polite but disinterested tone she adopted when necessary.

Then there was relative silence on the other end and eventually Maura came back on the line, this time with no noise in the background.

"I'm so sorry," she exhaled. "I'm glad you called. It's nice to hear a familiar voice."

"Where are you?" Jane asked. She hadn't meant to but she felt the perverse need to challenge Maura's assertion that she was glad Jane had called.

"A horrible, boring party downtown that my parents invited me to attend," Maura replied. "There isn't a single interesting person here and everyone is so… stuffy."

Jane closed her eyes, sitting down roughly on the stoop.

"I'm at Frost's," she replied. "But I wish I was at home."

"I wish I was with _you_," Maura admitted softly. "I don't really care where."

"You could have been," Jane suggested, her words a little biting.

"I could?" Maura seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," Jane sighed. "I just… I thought you might not be ready yet."

"Oh," Maura breathed. "I… I'm not sure I am."

"Why not?"

Silence loomed.

Jane cursed herself for asking.

"You should hate me," Maura said finally, her voice so soft and tremulous Jane almost missed it.

"What?" she exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"I ruined your marriage," Maura offered. "I ruined your life. I messed everything up and I abandoned you when you needed me. Then on top of that I'm making you wait for me to be ready. You should run, Jane, before it's too late and I hurt you even more."

"Maura that's," Jane couldn't even begin to set her straight. She didn't know where to start. "That's bullshit."

Well. That was one way to do it.

"Sorry," Jane added. "I meant… no, that's what I meant, actually. It's _bullshit_. You didn't ruin my life or my marriage. You saved my life- I'm better, happier, than I ever thought I could be. And maybe you did abandon me for a little while but you came back. Regardless of all that, I'm still in love with you. I'm willing to forgive you for anything that happened between us, and I hope you're willing to do the same for me. I've certainly got my fair share of things to atone for. But Maura, there is nothing that would stop me from wanting to be with you."

"It's just…" Maura's voice was quiet. "I'm finally getting you back, Jane. To think I could lose you again, could ruin this and drive you away- it's unbearable."

"Well that's the problem," Jane replied. "You _can't_ lose me again. Loving you… Maura, it's forever."

"Isn't that what you thought when you married Casey?" Maura asked, fear lacing her words.

Jane opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.

In truth, it _wasn't_ what she had thought.

At least, it had been different.

But she was beginning to understand the root of Maura's fear. She wanted to assuage that fear, to wipe it away, but she wasn't entirely sure how.

"No," she began. "It… I thought I was in love with him when we got married. I wasn't."

"How do you know?" Maura pressed.

"Because what I feel for you," Jane offered. "_This_ is love. This is what people write novels about. This is worth dying for, Maura. What I had with Casey was good and real and true but it wasn't love, not like this. I can imagine my life without him- I'm living a life without him. But the idea of living without you is unfathomable, impossible. I can't accept it."

"Jane," Maura's shaky voice interrupted. "I feel that too."

"I know," Jane responded. "And I promise you, Maura, that if you give me just one chance to prove to you how much I care- you won't regret it. I will do everything possible to make sure you know how loved you are, every day for the rest of your life."

"You," Maura murmured. "You know you're loved too, right? That I love you? Because I do. It feels like I'm making it sound as if I doubt you. I don't- I know that what you're saying is the truth about how you feel. It's more that… I can't wrap my head around being so lucky."

"Lucky?" Jane scoffed. "Our relationship has been to hell and back, Maura. I'm not sure most people would consider that lucky."

"Your love," Maura replied, no room for argument. "Makes me the luckiest person ever to live, Jane. And to think that after all the pain of the last year I might get to love you back… to love you openly, to be free…"

"I know," Jane echoed Maura's hushed tone. "I know, Maura."

"I wish I was with you right now," Maura repeated her earlier desire.

"Me too," Jane agreed. "We could meet for breakfast tomorrow."

"I want to ring in the New Year with you," Maura replied.

"Unfortunately," Jane sighed. "That's pretty impossible. It's 5 'til, Maura."

"I don't care," Maura's voice was firm. "I'm not ringing in a new year without kissing you. I refuse."

Jane laughed. Pouting Maura was just so… adorable, even over the phone. And the thought of kissing her was endlessly distracting.

"Is that so?" she challenged. "And how do you plan to accomplish that, exactly?"

"I'll be there in five minutes," Maura replied.

"What?" Jane scoffed. "Where?"

"Frost's apartment," Maura answered.

"Are you serious?" Jane responded. Hope and fear and elation swamped her.

"Yes," Maura replied. "I got in the car when you called me."

"Jeeze, Maura," Jane bit. "How fast are you driving?"

"I think it's best if I don't relay that information to an officer of the law," Maura returned.

Jane groaned.

"Be careful," she encouraged. "It's not worth dying over."

"I don't know," Maura countered. "It might be. I'm…"

"What?" Jane coaxed.

"Jane," Maura came back. "I'm ready."

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

They hung up and Jane stared off in the direction of Maura's approach. The seconds ticked by with an interminable slowness.

Maura's car came into sight seconds before midnight. By the time she had put it in park and stepped out, the clock had coasted right on past 12.

"I suppose I didn't quite make it," Maura admitted with a pout. "In the movies they always make it on time."

"It's ok," Jane laughed. "Better late than never."

It was fitting for them.

This, all of it, seemed to fit that description.

_Better late than never._

Jane reached out hesitantly, grasping Maura's hand. Maura reached up with her opposite hand and skimmed Jane's cheek lovingly.

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long," Maura sighed.

"I would have waited forever," Jane replied.

"I know," Maura sounded awed. "You can't even begin to imagine my gratitude for that."

"I love you," Jane responded. "Jesus, that feels good. I love you. Maura- I love you."

Maura's smile, at first a tentative grin, bloomed until she was positively beaming. She rested both hands possessively on Jane's hips.

"I love you too," she responded. "I'm _in love_ with you, Jane. I have been for a very long time."

They stood, _so close,_ but Jane found herself paralyzed.

It couldn't be real.

Maura, here, in front of her, professing her love.

That wild, caged thing inside her beat furiously against her ribs.

It had to get free.

Her body trembled with the restraint of keeping it in.

The last vestiges of fear fluttered against the edges of her consciousness.

Jane lifted a shaking hand and skimmed Maura's jaw. Traced her thumb over full lips.

"Maura," she rasped on a harsh exhale.

Maura swallowed, her eyes glassy and dark.

"Maura," Jane repeated, as if to be sure that this really was Maura, letting her touch ghost over her neck and back up to rest against her cheek. "_Maura_."

"Yes," Maura assured her.

Her eyes spoke volumes.

_It's me._

_It's real._

_I love you_.

Jane's body struggled to process Maura's touch, her heat, the unbearable softness of her skin.

It felt like someone was reaching into every dark, empty place inside her and filling it with light. It was good, right, but strong enough to hurt.

Those places, so long hidden in shadows of despair, recoiled from the blinding brilliance of Maura's presence.

But Jane inhaled deeply and forced the demons away.

They couldn't have her anymore.

She was all Maura's.

And Maura was hers.

"I love you," she repeated, her voice a guttural breath against Maura's lips.

"I love you too," Maura responded softly.

Jane had imagined this moment a million times. She couldn't have begun to imagine the torrent of ragged-edged emotions raging inside her.

Without warning, she jerked Maura into a hug, burying her face in Maura's neck.

Maura, startled by the movement, froze momentarily.

But then her arms circled tightly around Jane and clutched her firmly.

"Maura," Jane whispered. "Maura."

"Yes, Jane," Maura soothed. "I'm right here. I love you. I'm sorry."

Jane felt tears welling behind her eyelids and she didn't bother trying to hold them at bay. They slipped out unheeded, falling onto Maura's neck.

"I'm so," Jane began to explain but couldn't find the words.

"Me too," Maura took a deep breath against Jane's neck.

"I'm never going to leave you," Jane promised, a surprising edge to her voice. She hadn't meant to speak but the words poured out of her along with the tears.

"I'd die before I hurt you like that," she continued. "I'm never leaving you. Never. _You're_ the love of my life. This last year almost killed me, Maura, but I would do it again if it brought me to this spot. I'd do it a thousand times, if it meant having you."

She choked on a sob.

Maura skimmed a soothing hand across Jane's shoulders.

"You have me now," she assured. "I'm so sorry that it was so difficult and that I made you wait. You deserve the best from life and I'm going to do everything I can to give it to you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and I hate knowing how much I hurt you by keeping you at a distance for so long-"

"I don't care," Jane interrupted. She held so tightly to Maura a distant part of her feared crushing the smaller woman. "You're here with me now. That's what matters. I love you."

"I love you too," Maura replied. "I love you, Jane."

It was easy.

Almost automatic.

How had they denied it for so long?

Jane felt Maura begin to pull back and she held tightly, trying to stop her.

But then Maura's hand slid around to the back of Jane's neck and her lips pressed against Jane's and their bodies were flush against each other…

It was overwhelming.

All Jane could think was,

_Yes._

_Finally._

This was worth waiting for.

Worth every second of pain and anguish and despair.

That wild, beating _something_ inside her, so long trapped within the confines of her chest, burst forth into the cold night air and exploded around them.

It was as if Maura had reached inside her, found the core of her despair, and ripped it out. Tossed it aside and flooded that space with warmth and love. She felt a thousand pounds lighter, stronger than Hercules, braver than Joan of Arc.

Maura was kissing her, telegraphing her love with lips and tongue. She tasted like… like nothing Jane had ever tasted before. Like thousand-dollar scotch and chocolate covered cherries and vanilla.

Maura moaned and pulled Jane impossibly closer, fusing them from head to toe. She was warm and soft and greedy. Her fingertips peeked under the fabric of Jane's coat and shirt, skimming bare skin.

Jane again briefly considered whether she might be dreaming.

Or dead.

But heaven would pale in comparison.

It had to be real.

"Fuck," Jane's guttural voice punctuated the silence when they pulled back for air. They were both breathing raggedly, eyes wide, hands roaming. Jane found herself unable to move more than a few inches away.

"Language, Jane," Maura admonished, although it lacked some of its usual authority as her voice trembled.

Jane grinned.

"I love you," she said again, hands framing Maura's face. "More than you'll ever know."

"I love you too," Maura replied, grasping Jane's wrists to hold her in place. "Happy New Year, Jane."

"Happy New Year," Jane responded.

And simply because she could, she kissed Maura again.

She felt like she was drowning in Maura. The feel of her body, her wandering hands, her scent, the way she tasted…

"I can't believe this is real," Jane admitted, pulling back slightly to meet Maura's gaze. Her eyes were impossibly dark and Jane's gut clenched.

"I know," Maura swallowed. "I'm having difficult processing it myself. I want…"

She trailed off, averting her gaze.

Jane lifted her chin with a soft touch.

"Tell me," she coaxed.

"I want everything at once," Maura admitted. "I'm so sick of waiting. I just want our life together to start."

Jane smiled, warmed to her very soul when Maura returned the look.

The open expression of joy and affection on Maura's face was intoxicating.

"It _has_ started," Jane replied. "We're _us_, together, from this moment forwards. I'm all yours, Maura."

"Not yet," Maura nearly growled, pressing their hips together suggestively. "But maybe if you play your cards right…"


	16. Hope still lives inside

They headed back to Maura's, and Jane found herself unable to cease contact with the other woman. She skimmed Maura's shoulder, her thigh, grabbed her hand as they drove.

The streets were busy, the drive slow.

They didn't speak much.

There wasn't much more they could communicate with words. Not right now.

Not with everything so viscerally close to the surface.

When they finally arrived at Maura's home, Jane was bone weary. Her gut swirled violently with nerves.

She wanted to possess Maura. To kiss her until she couldn't breathe anymore and only Maura filled her lungs. To skim every curve of that delicious frame with nothing between her scarred palms and smooth skin.

But she was exhausted.

More tired than she would have thought possible.

And she wanted to be at her best when she and Maura crossed that final threshold into intimacy.

She found herself unable to discern what Maura was feeling but she could tell Maura was uneasy.

Her hand shook as she unlocked the door.

Once inside, Maura locked the door, put down her purse, and slipped out of her shoes.

Then she simply stood there, facing Jane.

Taking her in.

She looked like she was holding something back, keeping something heavy and terrifying at bay.

"Maura?" Jane asked, fear in her tone.

"I just," Maura swallowed. "I can't believe you're here."

Jane stepped forwards, pressing her lips tenderly to Maura's. There was no rush, no ferocity. Just the skim of her lips and tongue to assure Maura that she was ok. Safe. Home.

Then she wrapped Maura in her arms and sighed in relief when she felt Maura sag against her.

"I've missed you terribly," Maura admitted. "Sometimes I couldn't sleep because of how badly I missed you."

"Me too," Jane assured her. "But you don't ever have to feel that way again."

"I _do_ believe you," Maura replied hesitantly. "But it's also so hard to believe. That after everything, I don't have to be lonely anymore…"

Jane held tighter, nearly engulfing Maura in her embrace.

"You don't have to be lonely anymore," she whispered. "Neither of us does."

Maura nodded against Jane's shoulder.

"I'm tired, Jane," she breathed.

Jane pulled back enough to meet Maura's eyes. She smiled, imparting a soft Eskimo kiss that made Maura sigh in delight.

"Let's go to bed," Jane offered. "I'm tired too."

Maura's eyes searched hers. Then she nodded, taking Jane's hand and leading her into the master bedroom.

At the threshold, Jane paused, accidentally jerking on the tether of Maura's arm.

She was struck by how natural it felt to follow Maura to bed. The same bed.

She stepped through the doorway.

Maura smiled.

"I'll be right back," she said, slipping into the bathroom.

Jane nodded. She slipped out of her coat, pants, and over-shirt. In her underwear and tank-top, she crawled into Maura's bed.

It was impossibly soft, warm. It smelled like Maura.

Maura emerged a moment later in a pair of tiny shorts and a long-sleeved Henley. Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up and she looked strikingly young, vulnerable.

"Come to bed," Jane coaxed, her smile tender.

Maura yawned and nodded, traversing the small distance to the bed and crawling under the covers.

Jane watched the way Maura's eyes fluttered closed as she yawned again. Damn she was adorable.

"Shit, you're cute," Jane laughed.

"Language," Maura scolded sleepily. "You're much too intelligent to resort to such tactics for expressing yourself."

Jane relaxed on her back, arms at her sides. Maura rolled over, throwing one leg and one arm over Jane's body. Jane wrapped her arm around Maura's shoulder, traced her free hand up and down Maura's forearm where it rested across Jane's stomach.

"Oh?" Jane teased. "Don't you think there are times where it's appropriate?"

"I suppose," Maura allowed, her voice soft as she snuggled further into Jane's body. "There are some limited circumstances."

"Like, "Jane said casually. "If I said, _I can't wait to fuck you_."

Jane could feel the shiver run down Maura's spine and a heady, primal feeling rushed to her head and her core.

"T-t-t-hat," Maura stammered breathily. "Might be an appropriate use, yes."

Maura's lips pressed tentatively against Jane's neck and then, when Jane craned her head away to allow her easier access, with more certainty.

"What else," Maura encouraged, her lips and tongue driving Jane easily to the brink of insanity. "Might you say?"

"That you're so _fucking_ sexy I ache just being around you," Jane growled. "That when I catch people looking at you, I want to push you up against the wall and fuck you right there so they know you're mine."

Maura bit the cord of tendons on Jane's neck and she gasped.

"_Shit_," Jane rasped. "Aren't we supposed to be sleeping?"

"Do you want me to stop?" Maura asked, her voice dripping with desire.

"No," Jane hissed. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"I've done a fair amount of research," Maura sucked Jane's earlobe into her mouth. Interspersed her words with kisses to Jane's neck. "The internet is a mass of un-reviewed information and unreliable sources when it comes to lesbianism, mostly fueled by popular misconceptions arising from pornography, but I was able to find a few books on the subject that were quite informational… And I have some experience with female lovers, which of course helps, as I'm a very tactile learner… Additionally, my knowledge of anatomy is quite useful during amorous activity-"

"God," Jane groaned, interrupting. "Not what I meant at all."

"Oh," Maura nibbled along her jawline towards her chin. "What did you mean?"

"That I need sleep," Jane struggled to catch her breath. "But I don't ever want you to stop what you're doing right now."

"Well, aside from the practical difficulties of us getting any work done like this," Maura kissed Jane's chin chastely. "You're probably on to something. I didn't mean to get so carried away, it's just that when I'm near you I have a very hard time focusing on anything aside from what you taste like."

"Jesus," Jane dug her fingernails into Maura's forearm. "I knew staying the night was a bad idea. You're actually going to kill me."

"You know," Maura relented, pulling away slightly. Jane immediately missed the torturous touch. "In some civilizations sexual deprivation is used as a method of coercion."

"We call that pussy-whipped," Jane retorted with a wry smile.

Maura looked over quizzically, and Jane knew she was trying to determine whether Jane was serious.

"So that's what that means?" she asked.

Jane narrowed her eyes.

"Yes," she nodded, immediately suspicious. "Why?"

"I once heard a patrol officer say it when I asked you to do something," Maura responded.

"Great," Jane rolled her eyes. "I guess we're _out_ then."

"Are you," Maura's nose wrinkled at the crass phrase. "_Pussy-whipped_, Jane?"

Jane laughed- she couldn't help it. The words were totally at odds with Maura's usual vocabulary and Maura's look of distaste was completely adorable.

"Duh," she chortled. "I think that's pretty obvious."

"But don't you have to," Maura's brow furrowed. "You know, be having sex, in order for that phrase to apply?"

Jane shrugged.

"Nope," she rumbled. "Just the desire to get some will usually do it."

"I see," Maura's lips quirked up.

"Now," Jane said. "Before you ask me anything else about it, we're going to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Maura whined, her words belied by the yawn that immediately followed.

"Well I'm tired enough for the both of us," Jane responded.

Impulsively, she craned her neck down to press a kiss to Maura's lips. Maura's response was instant, and the way she melted under Jane's touch was cathartic. She mewled quietly and pressed herself against Jane's body.

When they pulled back, both women were panting softly.

"Goodnight," Jane breathed raggedly.

"Goodnight," Maura responded.

Jane didn't think she'd be able to sleep with Maura's body draped across hers but the exhaustion tugging at her didn't offer her any choice in the matter.

They had so much work to do, so many things to discuss. She knew they'd undoubtedly hurt each other in the next few weeks as they tried to figure out how to traverse the space between _friends_ and _lovers_.

But it was difficult to feel anything besides optimism with Maura's lithe frame tucked intimately against hers.

"I love you," she whispered, just before sleep overtook her.

Maura, already asleep, clutched tighter to Jane's frame.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

Jane was plagued by nightmares. She dreamt endlessly of losing Maura in a million permutations.

Car crashes. Fires. Gunshots.

They were realistic possibilities in their lives. Those things she was ready for, had thought about, was aware of.

It was the abstract, unfathomable losses in her dreams that haunted her.

Driving Maura away. Never really having her. Hurting her.

Those nightmares clung to Jane, made her toss in bed. It was enough to wake Maura up in the pre-dawn dimness of her room.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

The second of January was a day Jane normally dreaded.

It was so immensely anticlimactic. By noon she would have forgone all her resolutions.

But this morning…

She clutched tighter to the soft, warm body draped across her own, becoming aware of herself with agonizing slowness.

_Maura_.

Maura was hers.

Her to kiss and touch and love.

_Finally._

And in a move Jane had only dreamt about, fantasized about, she felt Maura kiss her.

Softly at first, just the barest hint of lips brushing, and then with more conviction. Maura moaned, stirring against Jane as she responded.

Maura parted her lips and Jane didn't hesitate to steal inside, deepening the kiss. Maura pressed against Jane more firmly, her hands skimming up to cup Jane's cheeks.

"Hmm," she hummed, pulling back. "Good morning."

Jane had never heard anything sexier than Maura's sleep laden voice.

Unable to resist, she fused their mouths together once more. In the dim lighting of the bedroom, she felt almost as if she were floating outside herself.

Skimming a hand down, she grazed Maura's ass tentatively. When Maura's breath hitched and she pressed into the touch, Jane's hesitation abated.

For long minutes they kissed and their hands wandered, straying into increasingly intimate, unfamiliar territory.

Jane's fingertips slid under the waistband of Maura's bottoms and Maura pulled back. Jane immediately flushed, embarrassed and nervous. Had she done something wrong already? Pressed too much? Moved too fast?

Maura kissed her, meeting her eyes.

"You're amazing," she assured Jane, reading the uncertainty in Jane's eyes. "I just want to be able to see you." Reaching over, she flicked the lamp on, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, yellow glow.

Swallowing harshly, Jane nodded, allowing Maura back into the circle of her arms. Maura didn't hesitate to lie flush against Jane's body, bringing their lips immediately back into contact.

Jane sighed into the touch, intoxicated by Maura, by everything about her.

Lying beneath Maura, she'd never felt more safe. Whole. Complete.

It was exhilarating and terrifying. She knew without a doubt that she'd never feel this way with anyone else, or without Maura.

"I love you," she breathed, surprised by the deep register of her voice, the way her words hitched.

Maura's dark, tempestuous gaze met Jane's.

"I love you too," she replied softly.

They kissed again, and this time Jane couldn't control her passion. She had waited far too long.

She plundered Maura's mouth, lips and teeth and tongue telegraphing the months of agony, of waiting, of fear. Maura responded equally, fueling Jane's desire. As intoxicating as it was to feel the curve of Maura's body through soft fabric, Jane wanted more.

Needed more.

Slowly, she let her hands creep under the back of Maura's Henley, hands moving over the ridges of her spine.

Maura arched into the touch like a cat, humming in pleasure.

"Jane," she sighed.

Jane couldn't think around the arousal pumping through her veins. It was heavy and thick and it both blurred and magnified everything.

After a moment, Maura sat up, straddling Jane's waist. Without hesitation, she stripped her shirt off, leaving her bare from the waist up.

Jane felt her breath catch, her eyes closing instinctively.

"Don't do that," Maura whispered.

_Pleaded._

Jane lifted heavy lids, drawn inexorably to Maura's gaze. Their eyes locked, held. Jane could see the dark hint of nervousness in Maura's eyes.

"You're beautiful," Jane told her. "Can I… can I touch you?"

Maura nodded.

Almost of their own volition, Jane's hands moved towards Maura's breasts. She started at Maura's rounded hips, skimming upwards with agonizing intentionality. Finally the scarred palms of her hands were resting directly over Maura's nipples.

Maura moaned, biting her lip. Jane exhaled raggedly, the soft skin of Maura's breasts searing her hands. She never wanted to let go, and a fleeting smile flickered across her face at the thought.

"What?" Maura asked, her breathing unsteady.

"I was thinking that I never want to let go of you," Jane admitted, lips twisted up.

Maura smiled in response, pressing into Jane's hands, her own hands finding purchase against Jane's shoulders.

"Apart-" she gasped when Jane flicked her thumb over a nipple. "From the practical difficulties." Another gasp when Jane repeated the motion on the opposite breast. "I can think of other places I'd like your hands even more."

Jane groaned, suddenly wrapping one arm around Maura's waist and sitting up so that Maura's chest was in line with her mouth. Leaning forward, she took a nipple into her mouth.

"Jane!" Maura cried out, her hands clutching Jane's hair. "Jane."

Jane paid homage to Maura's breasts, taking her time with the exploration.

"You taste so good," she rasped, in awe of everything about the moment.

Maura above her, around her, half-naked and…

Hers.

Hers to touch, explore, love…

Finally, Maura tilted Jane's head up and brought their lips together.

"I want you inside me," she husked, rolling her hips for emphasis.

Jane choked on thin air and gritted her teeth against the wave of arousal that crashed over her.

"Fuck," she bit out.

Maura took Jane's hand and guided it to the juncture of her thighs.

"That's the idea, yes," she breathed, sliding Jane's fingers into her slick, heated folds.

Jane bit Maura's shoulder lightly to stifle the overwhelming flood of emotions. She felt simultaneously like crying and laughing, like drawing the moment out to last forever and bringing Maura to orgasm as quickly as she could.

The position was awkward, and Jane's ability to move was limited. It didn't seem to bother Maura who was biting her lip and writhing against Jane unabashedly.

"Wait," Jane barked.

Maura's eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded as if even that were a struggle.

"What?" she gasped.

"I want to see you," Jane blurted.

Maura leaned forwards, kissing Jane softly.

"Ok," Maura smiled, kissing Jane again. A whisper of her lips against the corner of Jane's mouth.

She stood, sliding her shorts off and tossing them aside.

But instead of rejoining Jane on the bed she simply stood there, naked, letting Jane's eyes rake hungrily over her.

Jane felt her throat unexpectedly clog.

She traced her eyes greedily over Maura's form. Once quickly, as if taking everything in before Maura could change her mind.

When Maura didn't shift, didn't hide or shy away, Jane took a deep breath. Let her gaze travel more intentionally.

She started at Maura's feet. Ten perfectly manicured toenails painted a deep crimson. Toned, muscular calves that Jane already knew were smooth and warm. Strong, firm thighs. Curvy, feminine hips. A narrow waist. Heavenly breasts. An enticing collar. Sloping shoulders, strong arms…

And then she traced Maura's face.

Those delectable dimples. The narrow nose. The simple smile. Eyes she wanted to lose herself in.

"Jesus Christ you're beautiful," Jane blurted.

Maura flushed slightly and smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Come here," Jane extended a hand, scooting back to lie against the pillows.

"Done looking?" Maura asked.

"Not in this lifetime," Jane replied. "But I want to touch you now."

Maura climbed back onto the bed and Jane turned on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Maura skimmed a soft hand over Jane's face, then down to tug lightly at her shirt.

"Take this off," she coaxed. Jane immediately discarded the offending garment. Maura brought steady hands up to Jane's breasts.

Jane felt her eyes close of their own volition. She opened them to see Maura's delicate fingers moving over her darker, scarred skin. Maura was focused with rapt attention, and Jane swallowed harshly.

"Your body is exquisite," Maura said, her voice like smoke between them.

Maura leaned forwards, pressing a kiss over Jane's heart. Jane felt a tear eek out and she wondered where the hell all her emotional volatility was coming from.

Looking up, Maura kissed the wet track on Jane's cheek, then met her lips. The kiss was languid, exploratory.

Maura reached into Jane and flooded her with light, pushing out the fear, the anger, the sorrow. As it left her, so did more tears.

She began to worry she might drift away with the sorrow. But Maura held fast. Anchored her.

As she cried, she kissed Maura. Her lips, then her chin, her neck, her breasts, her stomach.

Pausing, she rested her forehead against Maura's navel.

Then, Maura reached down and tilted her chin up. Brushed away a lingering tear. Smiled in a way that made Jane more certain than ever.

This was the love of her life.

So she trailed her kisses further down, across Maura's thighs, hips. Finally settled against her center.

For a moment she feared she might not do the right thing, but her trust in Maura overcame that. Maura would help her. Wouldn't judge or criticize.

Would love her no matter what.

Forever.

Jane used her lips and tongue to bring Maura to the brink, letting Maura's soft noises and gentle touch encourage and guide her.

"I want you inside me," Maura pleaded, her hand tightening against Jane's scalp. Jane slid two long, fingers into Maura.

Maura moaned, bucking against the touch.

"Jane," she moaned.

"Tell me what to do," she rumbled.

"Don't stop," Maura begged.

Jane redoubled her efforts as Maura's lithe frame trembled against her. Spoke nonsensical sentences about how amazing Maura was, how beautiful, how perfect, how _right._

"I love you," Maura rasped.

"I love you too," Jane responded.

A few more strokes of her tongue in tandem with her fingers stroking in and out of Maura's core and she felt the other woman break apart in her arms. Jane slowed but didn't stop the motion of her hand, sliding up to cradle Maura against her.

"I love you," Jane repeated.

Maura trembled for agonizingly long minutes. Jane was startled to see that she was crying.

"Maura?" she asked, fear and concern warring for dominance in her voice.

Maura pressed her lips harshly to Jane's swallowing Jane's words.

"I love you," Maura blurted, kissing Jane again. She buried her face in Jane's neck, holding so tightly to Jane's body it was nearly painful.

Jane held her, trying to ignore her own almost agonizing arousal. Maura's lips moved against Jane's neck.

Marked her with teeth and tongue.

Jane nearly came on the spot.

"You taste so good," Maura assured her. "I wonder if you taste that good everywhere."

Jane swallowed harshly, allowed Maura to wander aimlessly down her body. Maura must have sensed her desperation though, because she didn't dawdle too long. Her lips found Jane, wet and wanting, and immediately set about tearing Jane apart.

"Maura," she groaned, clutching the sheets in her fists.

Breaking her down. Relegating her to her most basic elements.

"Please," she begged.

They all belonged to Maura anyways.

"Touch me," she exclaimed.

They always would.

Maura slid first one and then a second finger into Jane. Her other hand swept across Jane's body, touching every erogenous spot- many Jane hadn't even known about herself. Maura's lips worked Jane's aching clit until her entire body was reduced to a single need.

_Release._

Maura didn't disappoint. A few seconds later Jane was coming apart, splintering into a million pieces and trusting that Maura would know how to put her back together.

When the pleasure abated somewhat Jane took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maura's warm, soft frame was draped over hers and she was somewhat dismayed that her arousal had not dimmed at all.

She wanted Maura. Again. Still.

More.

She would never get enough.

Tightening her grip around Maura, she pulled the blanket up over their naked bodies.

"What's wrong?" Maura asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"Nothing," Jane lied.

Maura tensed against her.

"Please," she breathed.

Jane rested her forehead against Maura's, skimmed her hands against the smooth skin of Maura's back.

"It's just a lot," she admitted. "To… wrap my head around. You're here. With me. Like this."

"Naked?" Maura asked. There was humor in her voice, but it didn't override the confusion. Fear.

"I guess, yeah," Jane nodded. She kissed the tip of Maura's nose. "You're just… amazing. And I thought we might never get here."

"Naked?" Maura repeated, this time the teasing was clear.

"Yes," Jane laughed. "Naked. You seem to be very focused on that."

"Well," Maura purred. "As much as I enjoy talking to you- and I do, your voice is incredibly sexy, I also think it might be a misuse of our nudity."

"You do, huh Dr. Isles?"

Maura's breath hitched and Jane grinned.

"What on earth should we be doing?" she asked.

"I think you know," Maura cooed, nudging her thigh against the crux of Jane's legs.

"I don't know, _Doctor_," Jane challenged. "I think you might have to demonstrate."

"Gladly," Maura breathed, pulling back slightly to take Jane's nipple between her lips. "Any suggestions?"

"Uh," Jane groaned. "I think you're off to a good start."

"Wonderful," Maura grinned. "You know how much I value accuracy."

Jane's response got lost in the back of her throat when Maura nipped lightly at her tender skin.

"Maybe you should save the talking for later," Maura encouraged. "I like hearing your voice while you're inside me."

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

Hours later, Jane awoke to find the whole room bathed in warm sunlight. Maura was still asleep, and Jane looked at her for a long minute.

Just to make sure she was real.

Then she slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. She put the overly complex coffee pot on and gazed absently out the window.

Everything felt surreal.

For the first time in her life, New Years Eve actually marked the beginning of something. Close the final chapter in part of her life, and opened the book on a whole new story.

The story of her and Maura.

Rizzoli and Isles.

If she had her way, she would marry Maura Isles.

Soon.

Maura still got the newspaper delivered, and Jane collected it off the stoop. When the coffee was done she poured two mugs and headed back to the bedroom.

Maura was asleep and Jane did her best to keep from waking her as she slid back in bed, coffee on the bedside table, paper in hand. Rolling over, Maura's head found home on Jane's chest, one arm slung across Jane's stomach. Jane gently combed a hand through Maura's hair as she drank coffee and browsed the headlines.

She had been sipping and reading for ten minutes when she noticed that Maura was awake. Was watching her.

Jane started to fold the paper up and put it aside but Maura stopped her.

"Don't," she encouraged. "I… I like this."

Jane raised one eyebrow, resumed the gentle motion of her fingers against Maura's scalp.

"I like waking up to you being here," Maura added. "Just… living. Like it's the most normal thing in the world. Like we've been doing it for years. It's nice."

Putting the paper aside, Jane took a deep draw from her coffee and skimmed her hand down to briefly cup Maura's jaw.

"I love you," she breathed.

Then she ran her hand back through Maura's hair and continued reading the paper. Maura sighed contentedly and settled back against Jane's body.

Silence enveloped them. Jane broke it first.

"I love you," she repeated. Saying it was intoxicating, addicting.

"You deserve everything, Maura," she added. "I know it's been hard for you, trusting me like this, but I promise I won't betray that trust. You're safe with me."

"I know," Maura smiled. "I've always known. From the moment I tried to buy you a coffee that first day, I knew you could be trusted. Even if you were suffering from a vitamin D deficiency."

"I can't believe you thought I was a hooker," Jane whined.

"Take it as a compliment," Maura offered lightly. "Your undercover persona was so effective that I was convinced you were a prostitute."

"Gee, thanks," Jane quipped wryly.

"I would have liked to buy an hour or two," Maura laughed. "If you weren't so sassy."

"Hey!" Jane protested. "I wasn't sassy. You weren't exactly a peach, yourself. If I remember correctly, you put on rubber gloves before trying to intervene."

"Money is unsanitary!" Maura exclaimed, blushing.

"Please," Jane scoffed. "You were being uppity."

"Well I'm not afraid to use my bare hands now," Maura intoned, the rich rasp of her voice like silk against Jane's skin.

Maura kissed Jane's collarbone chastely.

"Are you happy?"

Jane was startled by the question.

"Yes," she assured. "Absolutely _yes_. Are you?"

"I am," Maura replied. "You make me so happy."

"Good," Jane sighed. "I'm glad."

"You know what I said about wishes?" Maura asked softly, hesitantly.

Jane's brain faltered for a moment. Then recalled the moment with vivid clarity.

Maura's birthday.

"Yeah," she breathed.

"I," Maura paused. "I might have been wrong."

Jane tried to formulate a response.

"I _was_ wrong," Maura corrected. "They… they obviously _do_ come true."

Jane clutched even more tightly to Maura. Her eyes burned, her throat was dry, her tongue felt heavy.

"What did you wish for?" she croaked.

"For you to be happy," Maura admitted. "I wanted you to be happy."


	17. Look what happens with love like that

It had been the week from hell. Three murders in two and a half days, no leads, and the dirty, melting snow was fucking with all her evidence, her crime scenes.

She was too tired to think, to feel, to function. It was that bone-weary exhaustion that made her want to simply give up on living so that she would finally feel rested, if only for a moment.

When Jane finally stumbled into her apartment, all she wanted was to sleep.

And maybe have a snack.

She flipped the light switch by the door, remembering as she did so that she had forgotten to replace the broken light bulb.

A curse died halfway out of her mouth when the light flicked on. She furrowed her brow, her frazzled brain trying to process. Too tired to ponder it, she shuffled into the kitchen.

When she opened the fridge, she paused.

There was food inside. Milk, cheese, yogurt, some vegetables, a couple half-filled Tupperware containers.

What the hell?

On the counter was a fluffernutter sandwich. No crusts, cut diagonally. And a glass of milk.

Jane swallowed.

Sometimes, just for a minute or two, she would forget.

She would reach the end of her rope, frayed at the ends, and forget that she had _everything_.

Maura.

Casey had been loving and supportive but he'd never understood her. Not really, not truly. She hadn't let him.

He hadn't been able to give her everything because she had been unwilling to allow it.

Maura didn't leave her any choice.

The other woman had worked into her very soul. It still surprised her sometimes, how viscerally she felt about Maura.

And on nights like this, it knocked her sideways.

Ten years ago, five years ago, even two years ago her day would have ended so differently.

She would have come home exhausted, fumbled around in the dark, cried because she was out of milk and then likely broken something out of frustration that she still cried when she reached rock bottom. Then she would have drowned her demons in Jim Beam.

Now…

There was rustling and she looked up.

Maura was standing in the entry to the kitchen, rubbing lightly at her eyes as she yawned.

Jane took stock of her for a moment.

In a faded, worn Red Sox t-shirt that stretched tight across her breasts and barely skimmed the top of her bare thighs, Maura looked amazing. Her hair was messy, her face clear of make-up, her eyes soft and warm.

"Hey," Maura breathed, shuffling further into the room. "Do you not want that? I could make you something else."

Jane found herself paralyzed, unable to move. Maura didn't seem to notice. She moved around Jane, pulling a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with water.

Tears threatened Jane, something visceral pulling at her skin until it was difficult to breathe.

Love like this wasn't supposed to exist. She wasn't supposed to be this lucky.

Mere mortals weren't supposed to reach the sun.

And yet, here she was.

"Jane?" Maura sensed her struggle and discarded her glass on the counter. She moved into Jane's space and put a soft hand on her arm.

"Did you," Jane swallowed, her voice a dark rasp. "Did you change the light bulb?"

Maura's brow furrowed.

"Yes," she replied.

"And buy food?" Jane added.

"Yes," Maura repeated, her voice suspicious. "Did I forget something?"

Jane leaned forward, capturing Maura's lips in a soft kiss. She rested her forehead against Maura's, feeling the other woman's arms twine around her neck.

"I love you," Jane breathed.

"I love you too," Maura replied.

Somehow, Maura folded Jane completely in her embrace. Jane didn't contemplate how Maura, a half a foot shorter and arguably much less imposing, could manage such a feat.

Instead, she simply gave herself over to the hold, the comfort. She buried her face in Maura's neck, letting Maura's soft hands travel across her neck, shoulders, back.

"You're so wonderful," Maura breathed in her ear. "So good and strong and amazing. It astounds me how boundless your concern for the victims is. But I miss you."

Jane swallowed a choked sob.

"Are you coming to bed soon?"

"Now," Jane breathed. "Everything else can wait."

Maura kissed her again, softly, soothingly, and Jane felt her knees weaken. Maura was so strong, and it reminded Jane that here, she could give up control. She could focus simply on existing, without pressure or judgment or expectation.

"Come here," Maura coaxed, leading Jane down to the bedroom. Jane followed willingly.

Maura stopped Jane at the foot of the bed, tender hands removing her jacket, unbuttoning her shirt. Jane toed her shoes off and collapsed into the bed.

Moving so that she was lying flush against Jane, Maura pulled Jane around her like a blanket.

"Can you sleep?" she asked.

"Yes," Jane's voice was like molasses. "But I don't want to. I've missed you too."

She placed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Maura's neck. Maura arched into the touch, her breath escaping in a harsh sigh.

"Jane," she pleaded. "Don't. You're exhausted."

"Don't?" Jane rasped disbelievingly. "You don't want me to do this?"

She skimmed a hand up to cup Maura's breast possessively. Maura's nipple was already hard.

Jane groaned. Maura's whole body pressed back against Jane.

"I've missed you," Maura said. "You feel so good."

"I missed you too," Jane replied, capturing an earlobe between her teeth. Weariness tugged at her like angry hands. Pulled at the edges of her consciousness.

But she was determined.

She lifted the hem of Maura's shirt and ran her hand across smooth, warm skin until she reached the pebbled nipple of Maura's breast. Maura's breath caught when Jane reached her target, and she craned her neck to the side in a silent plea.

Bringing her lips to the elegant column of Maura's neck, Jane worked her tongue and teeth against the pulse at Maura's throat.

When she awoke a few hours later, her hand was still possessively cupping Maura's warm, soft skin. The hair at the back of Maura's neck fluttered as Jane inhaled and exhaled.

A glance at the clock and the sun beginning to creep in through the blinds made Jane groan.

She never could sleep in when she was actually able to. For a moment, she lamented the lack of sleep, but Maura's soft body calmed her.

It had been too long since she had held her love, touched her. The freedom to simply soak in the other woman's warmth and scent was not to be taken lightly.

It was a hard-won freedom.

Jane swore never to take it, to take Maura, for granted.

They hadn't really discussed marriage, although Jane knew that was what Maura wanted. The idea scared her. Terrified her.

Not Maura, exactly…

But trying again.

Her first marriage had been a failure of epic proportions. She worried, deep down, that she would fail Maura in the same way she had failed Casey.

But the whisper of something else was starting to drown that voice out. Another voice, stronger and clearer, told her that could never happen.

Every time Maura professed her love, that voice got louder. Surer.

_This is it. This is real. _

Maura was _forever_.

Nestled safely against her partner, Jane felt that voice echoing inside her. She could have the privilege of waking up like this every day for the rest of her life. Of making Maura smile every day. Of protecting and taking care of Maura and having the other woman do the same for her.

That… that wasn't terrifying- it was exhilarating.

Jane closed her eyes and imagined the wedding she had been dreaming of since she was eight.

The details weren't too specific. And she didn't wear a white dress.

But she knew what she wanted.

Fenway Park. A beautiful spring day. Her family and friends. Lots of junk food. And a gigantic chocolate cake.

Up until a few years ago, the face and form of her significant other had been somewhat indistinct.

When she'd married Casey, it was in a small chapel with her closest friends and family. The reception was held in the Rizzoli family home. There was no Fenway, no hot dogs, and a modest vanilla cake with white icing.

For some reason, her dream had seemed silly.

It didn't fit the life she was leading- the person she was supposed to be.

Women didn't get married over home plate or have peanuts thrown at them in white lace gowns.

She'd never told Casey about her dream wedding. Instead, she had allowed her mother and his mother to plan most things, giving input and seeming excited about it only when absolutely necessary.

Now, she was torn.

She wanted her dream wedding. And Maura would be elegant in a designer gown on the other side of her.

But she also wanted Maura to have _her_ dream wedding, which Jane highly doubted involved a rain contingency plan or dirt on her expensive heels.

She wanted to give Maura _everything_ she wanted. Which led to another feeling of dread and inadequacy.

Maura would have to pay for the wedding. Most of it anyways, if it was going to be fancy and elegant.

Jane made a fine living, but a detective's salary could only be stretched so far.

Maura shifted in her arms and Jane's hold instinctively tightened. Stretching, Maura yawned and pressed back against her.

"What are you worrying about?" Maura's sleepy voice queried.

"Nothing," Jane sighed, encircling Maura more firmly in her arms. "Go back to sleep."

"It's ok- I'm up," Maura assured. "Tell me."

"I was thinking about marrying you," Jane admitted.

Maura turned in the circle of Jane's arms, placing a soft kiss on her lips before looking expectantly at the other woman.

"I was worrying about paying for it," Jane began. "And before you say it, I know the money doesn't matter to you. It matters to me."

"Oh," Maura replied elusively. "Does it bother you that I have money?"

"No," Jane shook her head, smiling to ease the tension gathering on Maura's face. "It doesn't bother me that you have money. It bothers me that _I_ don't have money."

"You give me things that no money can buy," Maura countered. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jane responded, feeling the words deep in her soul. "I just… I want to marry you, Maura. And I want to give you the wedding of your dreams."

"It's the wedding of my dreams because I'm marrying you," Maura replied.

Jane sighed, tracing the curve of Maura's feminine hip.

"You have to say that," she teased. "Because you love me."

"I'm saying it because it's true," Maura insisted. "There are very few things I care about. I want to wear a white dress. And even though they're difficult, I want my parents to be there. And your mother. And Frankie and Tommy. And Frost and Vince."

"Whoa there," Jane laughed. "Sounds like quite the guest list."

"I just want our friends and family to bear witness to our commitment," Maura sighed, blushing slightly.

"I do too," Jane assured her. She hesitated before continuing. "I guess I have a couple ideas."

"Oh?" Maura prompted neutrally. "Like what?"

"Well," Jane bit her lip, figured if she could tell anyone in the world anything, it was Maura. "I always dreamt about getting married at Fenway. And I don't really want to wear a dress. And I want there to be hotdogs. And beer. And a really, really big chocolate cake."

She met Maura's eyes and was once again blown away by the love she saw there. Love, and a little bit of laughter.

"Hotdogs?" Maura rolled her eyes, not bothering to stifle a giggle. "Not exactly a classy wedding."

"Hey," Jane pinched Maura's side playfully. "This is _my_ dream wedding."

"Can I come?" Maura pouted.

Jane leaned in and captured Maura's lips in a tender, passionate kiss.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Jane assured the other woman.

"So was that your proposal?" Maura breathed. "Or would you like me to ask you?"

"No!" Jane's face scrunched up involuntarily in distaste. "That was _not_ my proposal. I was just… thinking about marrying you. Do you… want me to ask you? Like, on bended knee or whatever?"

Maura paused to think for a moment, her face unreadable.

"Yes," she blushed. "I guess I would like that. I mean, you don't have to get down on your knee or anything like that. But I would like a ring. And a… more formal question asking. Or, I could ask you."

"No, I uh," Jane stammered. "I'd like to ask you. You… you waited for so long and made everything so easy for me- I'd like to ask you properly to be mine."

"I'd wait forever," Maura whispered.

"You don't have to," Jane responded. "I'm yours- now and forever."

In truth, those were the words Jane had inscribed on the inside of the engagement band she had picked out at Christmas.

It was overly optimistic, perhaps even foolish to pick out a ring with so much undecided between them, but in her gut she had been determined to make Maura hers.

So she'd gone to the jewelry store with her mother, a harrowing process, and picked out a ring she knew Maura would like. Her mother had fawned and cried a few glistening tears and told her that all she really wanted was for Jane to be happy.

And for her to produce some grandchildren.

Hopefully before her mother was too old to really enjoy them.

Did Maura want to have children?

Jane closed her eyes against the memory.

The ring was nestled safely in her desk at work, and suddenly she was anxious to ask Maura to marry her.

To have lightbulbs replaced and milk in the fridge and a shoulder to cry on and a helping hand to rely on…

To have Maura.

"I love you," Jane breathed. She gently nuzzled her nose against Maura's.

"I love you too," Maura echoed. "I'd love you even more if you took me to brunch at Stephi's."

"Awww, Maura," Jane groaned exaggeratedly. "That place is so pretentious! It's full of fancy gay men who always judge my shoes!"

"Well," Maura shrugged. "Your shoes _are_ somewhat… plain."

"Plain?" Jane exclaimed. "They're comfortable! And practical. And they don't cost like a bajillion dollars or go out of style after three weeks."

"That may be true," Maura nodded. "But you could wear practical, comfortable shoes that are also… slightly more updated."

"I like my boots," Jane pouted. "And just for that, I'm wearing them every day this week."

"Fine," Maura exhaled harshly, flopping onto her back with a flourish. "Perhaps I'll call Phillipe and see if he'd like to go to breakfast."

Maura's med school friend had moved to town a few weeks prior and proved quite the competition for Jane. Whenever Jane didn't want to go to the theatre or brunch or yoga, Maura would call Phillipe.

Inevitably, Jane would cave because she loved Maura and wanted to spend time with her, but Maura didn't give up on the Phillipe ruse. And Jane wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a ruse, so she continued to cave without putting up much of a fight.

"Fine," Jane gritted. "I'll go to brunch at Stephi's. But we're getting married at Fenway."

"Yay!" Maura squealed, clapping in delight. "I'll shower and then we can go!"

Bounding off the bed, she stripped off her shirt and tossed it into the hamper. In just her panties, she turned when Jane spoke.

"I think I need a shower too," Jane suggested neutrally, trying to lean casually back against the pillows when all she wanted was to touch Maura's bare skin.

"Well," Maura played dumb. "You could take one after me. Or you could go first."

Jane cracked one eye open and watched as Maura approached. She opened both eyes when Maura stopped at the side of the bed, leaning down to cage Jane in with her lithe arms.

"Or," Maura purred. "In the interest of being environmentally conscious, we could shower together."

"Oh," Jane grinned. "You know how environmentally conscious I am."

Maura kissed Jane lightly, laughing.

"Of course," she replied. "I guess we should shower together then."

Maura disappeared into the bathroom and Jane remained motionless on the bed. She listened, eyes closed, to the distinct and comforting sounds of Maura turning on the shower and stepping inside.

Steam began to sneak out through the open doorway and Jane couldn't help the contented sigh that broke free from her lips.

There were still so many things that could go wrong.

Illness. Accidents. Unforeseen circumstances.

But she knew now, deep in her heart, that those things couldn't break her.

She had been bent. Bruised. Battered.

With Maura by her side, there could be damage but no destruction.

Nothing could break her now.

Maura's soft humming escaped the bathroom and drew Jane in like a siren song. She stripped rapidly and slipped into the steamy, fragrant bathroom, an unavoidable smile on her lips.

Stepping into the shower, she encircled Maura with her arms and placed a kiss to her neck. Maura squeezed Jane's hands and sighed contentedly.

"I love you," Jane murmured. "You're everything."

"Thank you," Maura turned, kissing Jane chastely. "I love you too."

Jane couldn't keep the kiss chaste. Not with Maura's wet, warm body pressed tightly against her. She coaxed Maura's lips open and tasted deeply from her mouth, feeling her knees weaken slightly as Maura responded whole-heartedly.

"I missed you," Maura mumbled against Jane's lips.

Jane pulled back, kissing Maura's cheek, her neck, her collarbone.

"I miss you when you leave the room," she replied.

Sliding two wet hands around, she palmed Maura's breasts, relishing the sigh of delight that left Maura's lips.

"You feel so good," Maura breathed, leaning her head back against Jane's shoulder.

Jane felt something in the pit of her gut tighten. She wanted to give Maura _everything_.

Everything.

"I love touching you," she said, aware of the gravelly timber of her voice. She still hadn't mastered keeping the emotion from bubbling up where Maura was concerned. She wasn't sure she ever really wanted to.

Maura reached over and absently skimmed Jane's hip with her hand. The simple touch was electrifying.

Jane crushed her lips against Maura's, swallowing a moan.

They kissed hungrily, tongues groping, wet skin sliding together, hands roaming.

Jane slid one hand down to Maura's center, her eyes closing automatically when she made contact.

"Fuck," Jane gritted.

Maura smiled softly.

"Just looking at you is enough to do that," she admitted. "You're so beautiful, Jane."

Jane felt a flush rising and tried to ignore the twinge of embarrassment at being called beautiful. Maura wasn't doing it to placate her, or for any reason other than she believed it.

"Thank you," Jane replied. She could be this person. She could accept compliments. She could trust Maura's words, her judgment.

Her fingers lightly slid through slick folds. She relished the sounds of pure pleasure escaping Maura's lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting involuntarily.

"Jane," she begged.

Jane didn't have to be asked twice.

Dropping to her knees, she tasted Maura's arousal from the source. Maura's legs trembled and Jane grabbed her thighs to steady and ground her.

Jane worked her lips and tongue through Maura's folds, delighting in the way Maura's nails dug into her shoulders as she worked.

The steam from the shower swirled around them, the fragrant smell of Maura's body wash filling Jan's nostrils and mingling with the scent of purely Maura.

Jane worked her tongue against Maura's center, flicking and sucking until Maura began to moan and quiver from head to toe. Reaching up, Jane grabbed one of Maura's hands and met her eyes.

Maura's gaze softened, her eyes dark and wide, and she came apart in wave after wave of ecstasy.

Jane continued her ministrations until Maura went limp. Standing, she cradled Maura in her arms, peppering her forehead and cheeks with soft kisses.

"I love you," Jane rasped.

"Love you too," Maura panted. "So much."

Jane reached over and squirted a blob of shampoo into her hand, gently massaging it into Maura's hair.

Maura looked up at her, and Jane nearly fell apart on the spot.

She thought she had seen every emotion, every expression that Maura had to offer.

But the look of love, of contentment, of surprise and delight as she carefully washed Maura's hair- it knocked the wind out of her.

Leaning up, Maura kissed Jane softly.

"You're perfect," she whispered.

Jane blushed, encouraging Maura to rinse her hair while Jane washed her own.

"Hardly," Jane scoffed.

"Well you're perfect for me," Maura corrected.

"That I'll accept," Jane nodded.

They finished washing off and Jane stepped out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and waited for Maura to step out before wrapping it around her.

Maura giggled and accepted the towel, kissing Jane again.

Jane had never kissed or been kissed so much in her entire life. She hadn't really seen the appeal.

It was just… kissing, right?

She knew now, why people liked it so much.

Even the gentle press of Maura's lips against hers was phenomenal. It was a touch that connected them, cemented them. It said, _we're together_.

It was something that only lovers did. It spoke of passion and commitment and love and…

Jane would never be able to get enough.

Soft kisses. Sloppy kisses. Passionate kisses. Gentle pecks. Long make-out sessions.

She loved them all.

She loved Maura.

Maura's stomach grumbled and Jane laughed. Loud and clear and unabashedly.

She turned to look at Maura. Maura didn't blush or demure, she smiled instead.

"I'm hungry," she shrugged. "I told you I needed brunch!"

"Well let's get on with it then," Jane chuckled.

"I was thinking," Maura purred, stepping closer and letting her towel drop. "We could wait a few more minutes."

Jane exhaled raggedly, her eyes raking over Maura's naked body.

Maura's lips met hers and she melted into the other woman.

Then Maura's stomach growled loudly again and they both pulled back with a grin.

"I think we'd better feed you sooner rather than later," Jane smiled.

"Fine," Maura pouted, returning to the bedroom. "But this isn't over. I didn't even get to taste you."

Jane groaned, feeling her entire body react.

"Not fair!" she called out. "Not fair, not fair, not fair!"

"Get dressed," Maura replied when Jane entered the bedroom. "And I promise I'll make up for it later."

"I know you will, baby," Jane cooed, kissing the back of Maura's neck on her way past.

Maura tensed and Jane stilled.

_Baby?_

Where the hell had that come from?!

"Uh, sorry," Jane stammered.

"No," Maura cut her off. "It's… I, uh, I liked it."

"Really?" Jane sighed in relief.

"Yes," Maura nodded. "I think it's sweet. Did you know that the idea of a nickname didn't come from English origins? They were common in ancient Greece and Rome, especially when used as terms of affection, which the Greeks called hupokorisma-"calling by an endearing name."

"Thanks," Jane laughed. "It's cute that you preface your Google-mouth with, _did you know?_ like I'm going to say, _yes I did know that, but thank you_."

"You're a very intelligent woman," Maura countered, dressing in dark jeans and an emerald sweater. "You very well could have known that."

"Really?" Jane rolled her eyes in exaggerated faux annoyance. "Highly unlikely."

Jane slid into some faded jeans and a white t-shirt, finishing with her trusty boots.

"Will it always be like this?" Maura asked softly, looking over from her perch on the bed.

Jane turned from the closet, grabbing her jacket and standing in front of Maura.

"What do you mean?"

"Will it always be so…" Maura hedged uncharacteristically. "So easy? So nice and simple?"

"I doubt it," Jane crouched to bring them eye level, grabbing Maura's hands in her own and squeezing affectionately. "But whatever happens, we'll be able to face it together. If we could make it through all the things we've already dealt with and come out on the other side, I have no doubt we can handle anything else life sees fit to throw at us."

"There are just so many variables," Maura sighed. "So many unknowns."

"There are," Jane agreed. "But there's also one certainty, one constant."

She took one of Maura's hands and placed it over her heart.

"This is yours," Jane continued. "I'm yours. And I will do whatever it takes,_ anything_, to keep you safe and happy."

"I know," Maura breathed, her lips turning up ever so slightly. She craned her neck forwards and Jane met her lips in a soft, reassuring kiss.

"Well when you forget," Jane rested their foreheads together. "All you have to do is feel my heart. As long as its beating, it's all yours."

"And mine is yours," Maura replied, kissing Jane with more insistence.

Jane stood and pulled Maura up into her arms, delighting in the way Maura fell into her arms and trusted Jane to steady her.

Jane kissed her again, holding her close and relishing the moment together.

How far they had come.

Stepping back, Jane zipped up her leather bomber and smiled at Maura before heading out into the living room. Maura appeared a moment later in heels, jacket on and purse in hand.

Fingers on the doorknob, Jane paused.

Almost two years ago she'd met Dr. Maura Isles and her world had been…

_Everything_ changed.

The quirky, Google-mouthed, socially awkward woman had thrown Jane into a tailspin.

They developed an instant rapport, an immediate connection. The ebb and flow of their relationship was as natural as the coming and going of the tide.

In another lifetime, it would have been perfect.

In this lifetime, it was as close as any person could get.

And Jane wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

"Ready?" Maura asked, the soothing cadence of her voice reminding Jane that this was it.

"Ready," she replied.

And she was.

With Maura by her side, Jane was ready to take on the world.

With any luck, she wouldn't have to.

But she knew now, that she could do anything.

Everything.

She had everything.

And for that, she was grateful.

Happy.

For the first time, she was unequivocally happy.

And she couldn't wait to see what life had in store for her and Maura.

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

For everyone who read and reviewed, thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it.


	18. Epilogue

Butterflies threatened to completely overwhelm her.

If she had remembered to eat that morning, she probably would have thrown it up. To say the nerves were strong would have been like saying she _kinda liked Maura_.

Maura.

Her soon to be bride.

Soon, as in, in only a matter of minutes.

Jane hadn't expected to get cold feet. She was sure of this, of them- of her love, and of Maura's.

But for some inexplicable reason, standing in the locker room of Fenway in perhaps the most surreal moment of her life, she was swamped with nerves.

Her suit was much more expensive than her day-to-day and adorned with a few embellishments she might normally have scoffed at, but Maura deserved her at her best. The crisp white shirt set off nicely against the black jacket and slacks and she felt fancy, clean, but still comfortable, still herself.

She could only imagine how radiant Maura would look.

Frankie had come in a moment ago and been almost too speechless to tell her how lucky she was. It didn't matter- she knew.

Her family and friends were seated between home plate and the pitcher's mound. The official was ready.

They were waiting on her.

And her feet were suddenly made of lead.

Even in her trusty boots, she couldn't seem to take a step.

It was only a matter of minutes before someone would come to look for her. Frankie, or maybe Frost, or worst of all, her Mother. They had all cycled through at various times to fuss over her and compliment her and comment on how lucky she was.

Maura's parents had not accepted their RSVP but had shown up a few minutes ago and taken seats at the back of the crowd. Her own family was rowdily occupying the first few rows of chairs. The rest were filled with friends, coworkers, but they had kept the affair relatively small.

So many things had changed in the last few months, years.

As a child, she never would have imagined marrying a woman. Never would have dreamt of falling so head-over-heels in love with someone, _anyone_, male or female.

But here she was, madly in love and about to make Maura her bride.

Sometimes she still couldn't believe that Maura wanted her, loved her, said _yes._

In the locker room of her high school, there was a quote printed above the door. It said, _you are not beaten down by being knocked down, you are beaten if you stay down._

At the time, it had seemed trite and overwrought. Forced.

Back then, it was only a game.

Now, the familiar words whispered through her mind.

She had been knocked down.

Bruised.

Broken.

But she had not stayed down.

Her friends, her family, hadn't let her.

They had pulled and pushed and prodded and helped her to her feet. And Maura had reached out with a steady hand and held her firm.

She could stumble, she could fall, but she would always get back up.

Because of Maura.

So she couldn't for the life of her figure out what was holding her back.

It was her dream wedding. There were hot dogs and beer and the pitcher's mound and the biggest chocolate cake she had ever seen…

And Maura, in a white lace designer gown, standing opposite her at the baseball altar.

Jane was startled when the door opened. She looked up, her breath catching when she saw the visitor.

"Hey Janie," Casey smiled softly, hesitance in every syllable of his words. "Can I come in?"

Standing abruptly, Jane nodded.

She had only seen him briefly since his return- once to give him his things, and another time to finalize the divorce.

There were times when she missed him terribly, missed his presence in her life. He had been her friend, her _best friend_ before she met Maura, and it had been difficult to adjust to his absence.

She had sent him an invitation in the mail with Maura's blessing but hadn't actually expected him to attend.

"Hey," she grated, her throat like sand.

"I don't want to intrude," he replied. "I just, uh, I wanted to wish you good luck."

He extended a hand towards Jane without faltering, wavering. Jane's hand trembled when she reached out, and when Casey pulled her into an abrupt, brief hug, she held tightly.

"I'm," Jane couldn't seem to find the right words. "Surprised. To see you."

"You're my friend," Casey responded, his voice quiet but firm. "I want you to be happy."

There was sorrow in his expression, but also a quiet content that made Jane's heart ache for him.

"You're a good man, Casey," Jane exhaled, eyes glued to her shoes. "I'm really sorry for what happened."

"Hey," Casey interrupted, tilting her chin up with a calloused hand. "You can't help who you love. I'm glad you found what you need."

Jane nodded.

"Are you," Casey hesitated. "You ok?"

"Cold feet," Jane nearly sobbed. "I love her, I want to marry her- she's everything to me. But I can't seem to leave this damn room."

"You get nervous before a bust?" Casey asked.

"Yeah," Jane shrugged, knowing he was already aware of the answer. "All the time."

"But you do it anyway," he suggested.

"Of course," Jane replied. "It's worth it."

"And this isn't?" he challenged gently.

"It is!" Jane exclaimed. "It's more than worth it. It's also a million times scarier."

"What's so scary?"

"What if I mess it up?" Jane offered. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"You really think that's a possibility?" Casey countered. "I've seen the way she looks at you. I've seen the way you look at her. And what the two of you have been through just to get to this point… If anyone is going to make it, it's the two of you."

Jane exhaled harshly, nodded. Casey tilted her head up and smiled.

"She love you?"

"No doubt about it," Jane said.

"You love her?"

"More than anything," Jane responded.

"Then you try," Casey squeezed her shoulder. "That's all anyone can ask for."

Jane threw her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Her eyes watered, her throat burned, her heart pounded.

"Thanks," she rasped. "I…"

"You're welcome," he saved her from trying to explain. "Will you do me one favor?"

"Of course," Jane pulled back.

"I always thought that leather chair would be great in a nursery," Casey admitted softly.

Jane looked up abruptly, startled.

"I'll uh," she swallowed harshly. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks," Casey said. "I always thought you'd make a terrific mom."

There was a loud clamor at the door and Maura burst in, an awkward robe covering her dress, one hand over her eyes.

"I'm not looking," she exclaimed. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Hey Maura," Casey greeted her.

Maura froze, awkwardly caught in the threshold of the doorway.

"Casey?" she asked, peeking at him through her fingers before re-covering her gaze. "Is everything alright?"

"Maura, you can uncover your eyes," Jane laughed, most of her nervousness evaporating at the sight of her flustered, adorable bride.

"I'll give you two a minute," Casey grinned. "Best of luck to you both."

"Thank you, Casey," Maura replied, eyes still pressed tightly closed, fingers over her face.

"Thanks," Jane echoed.

Casey left the room and Jane took a moment to appraise her soon-to-be wife.

Maura was radiant.

Fucking brilliant.

Jane's breath caught and she resisted the urge to cry. How could she be so damn lucky?

"Maura," Jane coaxed. "You can open your eyes."

"But it's bad luck!" Maura protested half-heartedly.

Jane approached, gently prying Maura's hands away. Maura kept her eyes squeezed shut and Jane kissed her softly with a chuckle.

"As long as I have you," Jane whispered. "There is no such thing as bad luck."

Maura melted against her a little and groped blindly until she could link their hands together.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Jane looked at Maura once more.

Suddenly, all her doubts and fear had evaporated. With Maura's hand in hers, she felt invincible.

If necessary, she would have walked into hell. She was strong enough, resilient enough, to face anything now.

"Yeah," Jane nodded. "I'm ready."

"Me too," Maura replied.

"Then let's do this," Jane replied.

And with Maura's hand in hers, they exited the locker room.

Emerging onto the field, Jane felt a joy like she'd never known burst forth within her.

And again, it echoed deep down in her soul.

She was not beaten.

She was not broken.

Finally, she was happy.


End file.
